One Of Our Own ?
by aneka1
Summary: Someone in Steve's office is selling secrets. Is it friend, foe or superior officer? .Still recovering from an accident months before its a race against time and human endurance. Just when you think things can't get worse for McGarrett; they do.
1. Chapter 1

Oneofourown _One Of Our Own?   
By Aneka   
_

The morning sun was already beginning to warm the four-story cement block Intelligence/Security building as Commander Steve McGarrett entered through the double glass doors. It was his first day back at work since his plane crashed three months earlier. 

Seeing a tan uniform the marine private quickly hid what he had been reading underneath a convenient folder and snapping to attention thought about how much he hated this time of day. Tired from spending his night watch watching nothing he now had to play trained puppy and hop up and down each time an officer walked in. "Good morning Sir." He said matter of factly. 

As he watched the officer sign his name in the logbook a tiny alarm went off in his head. He suddenly remembered that in the four months he'd had this job the only left handed officer was a Marine major currently on leave. And this one, he observed, was taking a little too long to sign his name 

Oh crap! What gives? The eighteen-year-old Nebraska native thought as he unsnapped his holster in preparation for a possible assault. 

"Good morning Jones." Steve greeted as he saluted, pleased with himself that he had made it three quarters of the way to his hat brim, which could pass for a casual salute to the unknowing. Returning the pen to the table he walked around the desk towards the elevators. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the edge of the private's reading material protruding from under a manila file folder. McGarrett found himself suddenly in a playful mood. Succumbing to the temptation Steve grabbed the 'Girls!' magazine out from under the marine's folder ,where he had hastily hidden it when the officer entered ,and tossed it at the trash can.

Jones' heart skipped a beat when the officer reached over the desk towards him. 

"Glad to see you're improving your mind." Steve teased. A smile grew on his face at the thought of what was running through the Marine's mind as he continued down the narrow hallway towards the elevators.

The officer was not wearing a laminated plastic security tag Jones observed.

"Hold it Sir!" The panicked marine ordered grabbing the officer by the arm,which spun him slightly off balance. 

"What the....." Steve asked as his world suddenly began to spin backwards. The bang his briefcase made on the tile floor echoed in the narrow hallway further assaulting his equilibrium. The tan hat he had been carrying flew in the opposite direction._ I didn't hit the floor...so.. I must be standing up still...Think! FBI _  
Flying by instruments John had called it. After hearing from Frank about the crash Reggis had gotten a ninety-six hour leave and flown to Hawaii from his carrier in the Med. For three days the two officers would orient him then let go expecting him to figure out where he had ended up. Two dozen bruises and an even worse headache than the one caused by the skull fracture; from whacking his head inside John's crash helmet, later McGarrett had come to understand the two rules of flying in a fog.Rule #1: No matter what your body says the instruments are correct. Rule #2: If you honestly believe the instrument is wrong. See rule number one. {Read _The Journey Home for explanation}_

Steve tried to focus on any stationary object he could find in the swirling room.

OK think about this. Five steps back and I'll hit his desk. Which way is back? Damn! Wait...Towards the marine. Carefully turning around he felt the man's grip tighten around his left arm. With an abrupt twist he freed himself from the grasp and weaved his way back till he rammed knee first into the corner of the desk and perched on the edge with his head down desperately willing the room to quit gyrating.

"Are you all right Sir?" The private asked as he stared at the ghostly white pallor of the senior officer.

"No." Steve replied as he glared towards the marine but in actuality stared down a recruiting poster behind and slightly to the right of the guard. "What the heck was that for?"

"Commander McGarrett!" The marine gasped in shock as he recognized the now famous officer. The commander, who most of the time is the first officer in every morning, had been the one to process his paperwork before Chief Sysmanski had arrived. Fresh from thirteen weeks of indoctrination at Parris Island Pvt. Jones had not expected ANY officer to give him the time of day let alone a tour of the facility and a jelly doughnut from the officer's wardroom. "Nobody said....." He started to say but stopped mid sentence. "Welcome back. You look good Sir."

"I doubt that very much but thanks anyway Private." He replied still hanging onto the edge of the desk with both hands.

"Nobody said nuthun 'bout you comin back" Jones stated relaxing somewhat.

"I didn't want to make a big deal out of it." Steve answered as he blinked away the last of the stars. "Why on Earth did you grab me? If I wanted to push it I could get you for assaulting an officer."

"Sir...I didn't..." The teenager stammered as he saw the hope of his long coveted stripe vanish.

Steve sat up straight and glared intensely at the once again panic stricken marine. He knew there was in actuality very little he could do,especially with out witnesses, but figured a few minutes of squirming adequate recompense for rocking the McGarrett world. "Why Mister!" He snapped as the words reverberated in his ears.

"I....Your tag Sir. You forgot to put it on." Jones replied trying to ignore the huge butterflies in his stomach.

Steve let go of the edge of the desk pointed towards his briefcase on the floor. "Its in there...You mind?"

"Not at all Sir" The private replied grateful for the momentary escape from the intense stare-down he had just been subjected to. Jones picked up the case and retrieved the commander's hat from the corridor where it had landed and set them on the desk next to him.

Turning very slowly McGarrett flipped open the combination lock, retrieved the security badge in question and clipped it to his left shirt pocket. "Been so long I forgot. Sorry." Snapping the case shut he slid off the table and grinned at the perspiring private and slapped the marine on the back. "You did the right thing. Keep up the good work Jones."

Reminding the marine to secure his weapon he headed towards the elevators laughing to himself that the poor kid had probably lost a gallon of sweat. 

Steve admired the large polished brass Naval Intelligence seal mounted on the dark navy blue wall as he stepped out of the elevator. He wondered where the petty officer that was stationed in the hallway of the NIS floor just outside the smoked glass doors was. _Probably gone to the head_ he rationalized. As he pushed open the door to the offices he promptly dismissed the thought.

On the wall just inside the door was a board that listed all the officers by name. Steve placed his hat and briefcase on top of the nearby filing cabinet and picked up a piece of chalk to make a mark next to his name near the top. When Steve noticed someone had changed the title in front of his name from LtCdr to Cdr he realized this promotion had removed him forever from field grade status and put him possibly on the fast track to Admiralty . _Hum...come to think of it, there are very few short admirals. Maybe being able to reach the top of the board is a requirement for command_ He mused and remembered that he WAS the first one in his class to climb Hedron Memorial, which according to tradition would make him the first admiral. Except that the tradition had never proved true in over a century._ Why would I be an exception._ He thought sarcastically.

Steve slowly became aware of an annoying vibration in his ears. He turned towards the room and leaned against the wall as he tried to pop his ears. _What the...._ He thought as he noticed that the reel to reel tape machine, which was usually kept in a back office, was now in the center of the room playing rock music. A couple of female clerks were dancing off to the side of the room. The rest staff milled around the room, some carrying bottles of coke, a few others with plates of food and one or two carried manila folders. In the far corner Ensigns Foggarty and Tomlich tossed popcorn at each other trying to catch the kernels with their teeth. _Oh nuts. So much for sneaking back in quietly._ McGarrett sighed as he read his name in 8 inch red letters on the banner across the front of the room. 

Wanting to be the first one to greet her boss, Lauri hastily set down her punch cup next to the telex machine and hurried across the room to hug him.

Staring fondly at Steve's secretary as she ran Ltjg McAdams became aware of whom she was greeting. His eyes grew wide in recognition of the man in the doorway.

"Attention on deck!" He commanded.

The order caused heads to turn and started a massive scramble as everyone set aside what they were doing and lined up according to rank.

As the rows of staff came to attention Steve pushed himself off the wall and returned the salute.

"Welcome back Sir." McAdams acknowledged relaxing to at ease position.

"Thanks." Steve smiled reluctantly as he retrieved his hat and briefcase from the top of the beat up dark gray filing cabinet underneath the board.."Can we just..."

Enthustically breaking out of formation,everyone trying to out talk each other as the group rushed towards him enmasse just as a heavy percussion segment began on the tape. As his world began a counterpunctal pulsation Steve headed towards his desk trying to ignore the whirling, increasingly stifling crowd.

"Steve!"

McGarrett instinctively flexed one leg as his name filtered down the warm black tunnel towards his consciousness. _"What....._ He thought as an oddly familiar voice accompanied the annoying shaking.

Slowly opening his eyes Steve found himself looking up at the face of a very concerned Lt. Anderson. "What's...? He croaked.

Glen started to grab him under the arms then decided that he might accidentally jerk his friend's arm back out of joint, released his hold and grabbed his friend by his belt and pulled him partly up the wall of cabinets. 

"I don't know..." Steve stated in response to the obvious question. "Glen, can you turn off the damn music." He asked as the guitar rifts tore through his brain.

A seaman quickly yanked the plug from its wall socket.

"What happened?" Anderson asked more insistently.

"I don't...." Steve began as he looked at his friend. "Everything started spinning...a lot of movement still bothers me sometimes." _This isn't going well at all._ He thought _I've only been back twenty minutes and already made an idiot out of myself. Twice."_ He winced at the memory of the lecture his friend had given him earlier in the morning. _Maybe Frank was right, I should have stayed home.....try explaining that to Washington...._

"Man why the hell are you here?!" Glen retorted defensively. "Is Heinriche an ass or what!"

"What's he got to do with...." Steve replied as he adjusted his position against the cold metal cabinets. 

"I heard him on the phone last week yelling at your doctor trying to get you 1A'd. We all thought he was doing it for you because the doctor was being a jerk." Anderson stated with disgust as he looked over his shoulder at the window of the captain's office and focused on the opening between the slats of the venetian blinds. "Guess we know who the jerk is now." He stated disgustedly.

Steve started to get up as Anderson helped him to his feet. 

"Are you OK?" McAdams asked as Anderson quickly grabbed hold of Steve's belt to keep him from pitching over forwards.

"I'm OK." He replied as he pushed away the hovering Anderson. "Just don't mob me alright." He slowly walked over to his desk and carefully sat in the chair. "So whats been happening around here?" 

Ensign Walter Foggarty,who was a perpetually over eager young man, returned from the wardroom juggling three white ceramic Navy issue handleless cups of coffee and tried very hard not to spill the hot contents on himself as he plopped onto the chair next to Steve's desk. "Not a whole heck of alot really." He answered between bites of his fourth doughnut."You want one of these Sir?"

"Maybe later thanks." Steve replied and carefully shook his head in amazement at the youngsters seemingly endless appetite. "One of these days I'm going to run that off you."

The slightly overweight ensign smiled at the thought of his karate lessons being resumed. "I hope so soon Sir." 

"You know." Steve chuckled as he looked at the tiny stack of folders on the corner of his usually overstacked desk. "This desk wasn't this empty when I arrived here from Japan."

"Bottom drawer Sir." Ensign Tomlich directed. 

"All this?" Steve stared in shock at the huge mountain of paper that he had just piled on his desk from the now empty drawer.

"Three months worth of memos and directives Sir." The ensign informed as he tried not to laugh. "We didn't want you to feel left out."

"I think in this case." McGarrett grinned. "I could adjust." Another look at the stack of papers served only to further his discomfort. "I'll never get through it all before Christmas."

"Sure you will Sir." The junior officer replied and gestured towards the trash can. "Ninety percent of it can be 'filed'."

"Well you're probably right about that." McGarrett agreed as he tossed the first ten-page memo about the excessive use of office supplies into the circular file.

"The save paper speech Sir?" Tomlich laughed at the memory. "We made airplanes out of that one."

A loud screech from the ceiling interrupted the festivities.McGarrett reflexively put his hands over his ears and as a series of white-hot lightening bolts tore through his brain sending him unconscious to the top of his desk. 

The noise lasted only a few seconds but it was at least five minutes before Steve awakened. "What the hell was that!" He asked slowly lifting his head off his desk.

"Its the ventilator again Sir." Jg Ramirez said calmly as he looked up at the ceiling. "I'm glad you're back Sir. You're the only one who can get anywhere with Base Maintenance."

Ah. Something easy. I can handle this. "Well,I guess I'm back." Steve answered as he picked up the receiver of the black telephone on the corner of his desk. "Anybody know the number?"

Jg McAdams reached for his directory. "I thought you had the book memorized Sir."

"Lieutenant, I can't think my way out of a paper bag." Steve snapped back at McAdams. "Just give me the damn number!"

"732....81...2...6" the lieutenant answered throwing the book back in his drawer and wondered if he was glad to have his mentor back or not.

After dialing the last number Steve sat back in his chair and put his feet up on his desk and waited."Good morning Seaman, let me speak to your superior please." He asked as he cradled the receiver against his shoulder. "Ah. Master Chief. Good morning. Yes it is a lovely day. But maybe a bit too warm." He said into the phone.

The group that had gathered around his desk began to snicker at the approach Steve was taking towards the man.

"You guys want the air conditioning fixed or not?" Steve asked ,with his hand over the phone, and glared at the crowd.

The group grew silent very quickly as Steve returned to his phonecall.

"Chief this is Lieutenant Comm...sorry..Commander McGarrett.NIS. Thank you I'm fine." He answered growing tired of the mans endless pleasantries. "Yes. it is good to be here." Steve answered looking around the room thinking that the answer for him had a far different meaning than what the man on the other end of the phone had intended. "Chief our air conditioner just died over here. Think maybe you could send someone to check it out? Well if you've been here before then there must be an ongoing problem. Correct? Perhaps today would be a good day to resolve it. What do you mean what am I doing to it??!!" Steve replied defensively. "I've been in the hospital for three months, I don't think I did ANYTHING to it!! Uh...nasty crash. Yeah I'll be OK. I saw alot of your guys over there fixing stuff all the time. Oh,they're a priority.....And intelligence isn't?... Come on Chief...its 82 degrees already. I realize you're busy...but we're on the third floor here. Its a basic law of physics Chief, heat rises. The frosting on my cake's starting to melt. Yeah it's my party." Steve stated as he circled in for the kill. "And Chief YOU'RE RAINING ON IT!!! Thank you Chief. Yes we'll see you in a little bit." Steve hung up the phone and put his left arm behind his head as he leaned back in his chair against the partition that was behind his desk. "He'll be here in an hour." McGarrett announced triumphantly.

"Man what a con job!" Glen laughed.

Steve shrugged "It's called Irish Diplomacy. The ability to tell a man to go to hell so that he looks forward to the trip. You big Swedes just don't get it."

"Why bother at all Sir? Just pull rank on him." Foggarty asked as he put down the sandwich he had been devouring. "You've got enough of it."

The group of officers shook their heads at the statement. Ensign Tomlich was puzzled by the looks his friend was getting from their superiors but also glad that he hadn't asked the question himself.

"Oh geez." Steve laughed and holding his ribs leaned forwards in the chair. _I knew you were green but not THAT green._"You've got a heck of alot to learn about the Navy son. That shavetail bar of yours doesn't mean a thing and my oak leaves don't count for much more. The first rule of Navy life is never EVER piss off a master chief. A good chief can be your best asset. They've been around a long time and know how to get whatever it is you need and more importantly who to get it from. Make him mad and he'll make your life a living hell...you won't be able to requisition so much as a paper clip out of him."

While the rest of the staff resumed their work, between trips to the food ladden table, Steve struggled through the paper mountain.

"This is ridiculous." McGarrett berated as he tried unsuccessfully to make sense out of the updated cipher machine instructions. The words started to move around on the page. _I suppose I'll need this one someday. _He thought and tossed the folder back in the bottom drawer. His head felt like it was on the business end of a jackhammer as the edges of his vison started to close in around him. Laying his head down on the desk he waited for the pounding to cease. Moments later McGarrett slowly sat up and thumbed the stack of papers still left in front of him. He did not to repeat the experience. Lost in thought he began to play with the bayonet he kept on his desk. 

Glen, pleased to have his friend back,walked up and set a plate of macaroni salad on top of the folders. The abrupt movement startled Steve back to reality and he instinctively pushed his chair back from the desk.

The quick unexpected movement startled Anderson. Seeing only the moving knife Glen quickly pinned Steve's arm to the desk and wrested the weapon away. With the knife secured he dropped into the chair beside Steve's desk. "Careful." He exhaled deeply."Man you could kill somebody with that thing!"

Once he recovered from the scuffle McGarrett scooted the chair back under his desk and shook his head at Anderson's paranoid reaction.

"What's up?" He asked as he settled back in the chair.

"You gotta eat." Glen stated and impatiently moved the plate closer. "Come on."

"I'm not hungry." Steve insisted.

"Yeah right." Anderson retorted. "You look like something out of Lang Bak Prison."

"Re-education Center." Steve replied with a grin as he reminded his former cellmate of the Chinese euphemism for the POW camp.

"We never did learn what the true freedom of communism was." Glen added with a sarcastic laugh as he gestured with the knife at the plate.

"Dammit I told you I wasn't hungry!" Steve barked and glared intensely at his friend. "It's bad enough I've got Mother Evershall at home hovering over me. I'm not going to be babysat here too. Back off Anderson!"

Stunned by the outburst Glen sat back in the chair and toyed with the bayonet for several minutes. He still hurt from the tirade, but finally Glen came to the conclusion that to McGarrett the threat to his independence was far worse than any physical trauma. "Hey Steve?" He asked tentatively. "Where'd you get this thing anyway?"

"Huh?" McGarrett replied distractedly as he looked up from rearranging the pasta on his plate. "Oh. I picked it up in Korea someplace."

"A Chinese officers bayonet.Right." Glen replied not totally believing Steve's vague answer. "These little gut punchers weren't just laying around in the woods."

"The mission's still classified Glen." Steve commented.

"Damn Navy." Anderson retorted as he tilted his chair back down. "We fight a war and can't even talk about it among ourselves." Feeling at ease again he quickly changed the subject. " So how the heck are you?"

"I wish I knew." Steve answered as he relaxed into the leather chair. "Everything's fuzzy around the edges. I can't think past step three and if I read much more than the front page I get a headache like you wouldn't believe." Steve dropped the plastic fork back on the desk and pulled his right knee up in the chair. "You saw what happens with moving things. I'm lucky the Patrol didn't pick me up for DUI this morning."

"You wrecked your T-Bird??" Glen exclaimed disappointedly. "Oh man what a bummer." 

"No.It's still in one piece" Steve replied with the suspicion that Glen had planned on conning him out of his car for the weekend. "I've got a staff car..if I'm going to wreck something let it be Navy property. Frank's using the T-Bird anyway while he's here. It's safer with him. The way Frankie dents cars though that's a frightening thought.

"I'll bet." Anderson sighed sympathetically. "Driving one handed has got to be a pain in the butt." 

Steve laughed as he looked up at Glen. "You really don't want to know." He said. "That parts not so bad. I drive that way most of the time anyway. Thank god for automatic transmission though. Try opening a coke bottle or tying your shoes. Every time I turn around somebody's saluting me. It's starting to get very old very quickly." He answered then changed the subject. "Did I tell you who's stationed in Hong Kong now? Roger Hennessey."

"You're kidding." Anderson replied as he propped his feet up on the corner of Steve's desk. "I thought he was still in London. Man's gonna forget how to drive on the right pretty soon. So how is he?"

"We went to lunch up on Victoria Peak." Steve replied as he smiled at the only pleasant memory of the China mission. "Sunburned his nose again."

They both laughed uproariously at the absent Roger's expense. "Man he should have stayed where he was." Glen stated. "I was in the UK for 4 months. Think it rained every day I was there except the morning I left." He added with a smirk. 

Ltjg Jenkins,drinking his fifth Coke of the day, approached his friends and sat exhaustedly on the corner of Steve's desk. "So what's up with Hinney?" He asked pointing the neck of the bottle towards the Captain's office.

"How should I know." Glen retorted nearly choking on a bite of cake. "Maybe he's getting a personality transplant."

"From a cadaver." Jenkins laughed."didn't know they had one available for him yet.

"Come on guys." Steve replied as he half-heartedly tried to justify Heinriche's peculiarities. "He's not all that bad."

"He's a jerk Steve." Glen reminded.

"I know." McGarrett agreed. "But there's a whole other side to him.... believe it or not. During the debrief..."

Anderson reached over and stole one of Steve's pretzels. "How many times did he quick march you around the room first?" Glen interrupted sarcastically.

"Nah Glen." Jenkins replied draining the bottle and tossing it in the trash can. "He had him doing knuckle pushups." He corrected and helped himself to the pretzels. 

"You guys. He was OK. Really." Steve assured as he glanced at his wristwatch and realized that only an hour remained till the end of watch. "Where is he by the way?"

Glen turned around in his chair and looked in the direction of the captain's office. "In his office. Surveying us from behind the venetian blinds like always. It'd probably kill him to come out and mingle." He made a disgusted hissing noise and turned back towards the group. "Lately he doesn't say hello, even if you're in the elevator with him. He's getting ridiculous. I hope he gets his flag so he'll be out of here."

"We could get worse." Steve cautiously advised.

"Must be brain damage." Jenkins joked as he shook his head. "Steve, you got a thing for this guy?"

"No." McGarrett insisted. "He's a class A jerk. But there's far worse out there we could get."

"Or..." Glen smiled. "They could give it to you."

"I doubt that very much." Steve dismissed. "I don't kiss up very well. Just remember the axiom. 'Know your enemy'. We know Hinney's quirks."

Unable to sleep the previous night Steve sat with his head down on his still empty desk. When Captain Heinriche opened his door and observed his executive officer he shook his head in disgust at what he was being forced to do. "You call this a report?!" Heinriche yelled for the benefit of the rest of the staff. "McGarrett hike your tail in here! NOW MISTER!!"

What does the old bird want? I haven't been back long enough to have done anything wrong. Steve thought as he carefully stood up and walked slowly towards the office.

The junior officers exchanged unpleasant looks.

"You wanted to see me Sir?" McGarrett asked as he closed the door behind himself and leaned against it.

Heinriche turned away from the window and saluted the newest senior officer on station. "Sit down Steve before you fall down." Heinriche advised. "Drink?" He asked as he picked up the scotch bottle off his desk. "You look like a centerfold for Mortician's Monthly."

"No thanks." Steve declined as he carefully took a seat in the chair across from Hinney. "I'm off balance enough as it is."

"Yeah I suppose you are." The captain acknowledged as he poured the amber liquid into a not so small glass and swallowed it in one warm gulp. "You're going to want one in a minute. Steve..." He said with hesitation. "I don't quite know how to tell you this. Two months ago...we lost High Eye."

"The satellite? Lost it?" Steve exclaimed as he stared back at his superior with a look of shock. "My project?" McGarrett questioned. "It was no where near ready for launch. How could it get lost?" He asked with trepidation as he leaned forwards in the chair. _I don't feel like yelling at anyone._ "Who screwed the pooch?"

"Last chance." Heinriche informed as he poured another drink. 

Steve waved his declination. 

"OK." He stated as the liquor burned its way down his esophagus. "It was leaked to the Russians." He explained chewing yet another Rolaids. "They've been tracking this, Steve. Washington thinks it was stolen from here."

"WHAT!" Steve gasped as he jerked upright in the chair nearly throwing himself over backwards. "NO WAY!!"

Heinriche massaged his burning ulcer as he walked around his desk and peered through the closed blinds. "Someone out there's a spy."

"Sir." Steve smirked at him. "We're all spies. Including you."

"Don't be impertinent." The Old Man retorted but begrudgingly half smiled. 

McGarrett's anger at Washington's assumption had been building but the fact that the captain believed it was too much. Outraged by the unjust accusation Steve, momentarily forgetting about the ramifications of abrupt movements, leapt to his feet. As the room began to tilt backwards he grabbed hold of the corner of Heinriche's desk and stood perfectly still with his head down. "Sir..." Sensing himself falling forwards he quickly sat on the corner of the desk holding his head in his left hand. "That's a bunch of crap! Washington has to blame somebody. And we're the farthest from the Beltway. This is ludicrous." 

"Steve calm down!" Heinriche ordered as he grabbed his agent who was about to slide off the desk and put him back in the chair.

"Sir, I work with these people. NO WAY!" Steve snapped and immediately regretted the outburst as he closed his eyes and slumped down in the chair. "What makes you so sure its not me?" He asked quietly as his equilibrium slowly returned.

"You were unconscious when it disappeared. You couldn't have done it." Heinriche replied earnestly. " I told you previously that Washington has me by the balls. It's not just about the nodongs." The captain shoved aside a stack of books and sat on the corner of his desk to face his officer. "Steve you're the only one I can trust with this. I'm sorry to have to do this to you...but...the minute you could stand up I started pushing the doctors into releasing you for this. The shorter one's a tough little nut to crack...I should have had him sent back to Japan the first day..."

"Why didn't you tell me about this last week. Or yesterday for that matter." Steve demanded as his head cleared.

"I...." Heinriche hesitated. "They were having that party...I didn't want to ruin it for you."

Frustrated and angry at Heinriche's acceptance of Washington's theory Steve sat up straight in the chair and glared at the captain. "I don't believe any of this. Screw the Pentagon! For once in your life, drop the damn book. These are your people, why aren't you backing us up?" He demanded curtly and purposefully omitted the customary 'Sir'. Could this some kind of power play Steve began to wonder. Did Heinriche want his star badly enough that he would sell out one of his own to get it? Perhaps Glen was right after all and the man was an uncaring bureaucratic drone. 

Heinriche walked around behind his officer and put his hands on Steve's shoulders in an attempt to calm him. "I know." He acknowledged and quickly returned to his place on the edge of the desk. "I pray that you're right. But we have got to know for sure." The captain leaned towards Steve and almost whispered. "Here's what I want you to do. Go back out there and let the tough guy act go. Tomorrow I'll announce you're back on medical leave indefinitely. Everyone will buy that. That will free you to follow up on what ever develops without arousing suspicion amongst the staff. After watch, come here and I'll let you in the back door. I'm having all the personnel records sent over this afternoon. The clerk thinks that I want to get a jump on the promotions board. That cover will last at least a couple of weeks." Heinriche looked at Steve with a sympathetic expression. "Steve...whether you chose to believe it or not I really hate doing this..."

Yeah I'll just bet you do. McGarrett thought sarcastically. _You want things tidy for your flag review. So you'd kiss ass clear up to the White House and screw whoever gets in the way._ "I'll do this. But only to prove they're wrong." _And make sure somebody here doesn't get hung out to dry. _He replied crisply snapping to attention. "But when we're clean I want to be the one to shove it up the Pentagon's rear echelon."

"Deal." The Old Man agreed as he handed him a folder. "Now go on. Get out of here." And dismissed Steve with a wave of his hand.

Steve returned to his desk threw the folder down and stormed out the door. The rest of the staff exchanged nervous glances at each other and wondered what had happened in the captain's office. It took alot more than just being called on the carpet to upset Commander McGarrett. 

Twenty minutes later Steve returned carrying a box of records. He dumped them onto his desk and collapsed into the chair. Still frustrated he opened one of the manila folders, played with the pages for a few minutes then angrily threw it against the wall.

Concerned by their boss's outburst and still wondering what had transpired in the office the two ensigns looked at each other nervously again.

"You OK Sir?" Foggarty foolishly asked.

"Idiotic JAG lawyers..." Steve sighed.

"What was that all about?" Tomlich asked as he pointed to the pile of papers scattered on the floor.

"Nothing." Steve replied sheepishly. "A guy I busted for murder is appealing. Damn lawyers want to retry him on a 'procedural error'. I'm just the guy who chased his tail all over Seoul to bust to jerk, not the JAG who prosecuted." He sat back in his chair and wearily rubbed his forehead. "Walter Stewert's not even in the Navy anymore. Some ding-dong of a Jg from Portsmouth is running the case now. But guess who gets stuck with redoing the paperwork." 

Steve picked up his pen and sat up in the chair. "Look, I've got to have this done by end of watch OK."

"Want us to help you?" Foggarty asked as he eagerly gathered the papers from the floor.

"Nah. You guys were still riding bicycles when this went down. Trinnean was guilty as hell six years ago and he's still yelling frame. He finally got somebody to believe him I guess. Good Lord." He groaned. "I'm going to have to find Seaman Rutgers all over again...this is such a waste." 

Three hours later Anderson entered the room carrying a half empty Coke bottle. "Where's Steve?" He asked setting it down on the desk and pointing towards the vacant chair.

Ensign Tomlich looked up apprehensively. "Lt Jenkin's has got him up in the garden."

"Oh." Glen replied deciding that sitting in the sun with his two friends would be a welcome respite from the days drudgery. 

"Sir, he doesn't look too good." Tomlich warned. "Couple of cipher clerks found him zoned out in the wardroom."

"What happened?" Glen asked anxiously.

"Don't know Sir." Tomlich replied."I saw him in there earlier. That chief from maintenance was screwing the grate back on and dropped his screwdriver. The commander handed it back up to him, then poured himself a cup of coffee and sat on the couch. He was fine when I left.

"How long ago was that." Anderson demanded.

"About half an hour I guess." Tomlich replied. "The chief left behind me. I swear to you Sir. He was OK then."

"What's Hinney trying to pull!" Glen yelled and pounded his fist on the desk knocking the coke bottle on its side and spilling its contents all over Steve's desk. "If the Old Man's looking for me I'll be up on the roof." He stormed towards the service elevator.

Behind the air conditioner unit on the roof of the Security Building, there was a collection of cocoa palms growing in buckets along with an assortment of plants. Wild philodendron entertwined itself around the antenna cables which provided a loose canopy over the battleship gray metal tables and chairs. A power cable ran across the roof underneath the thin layer of beach sand covering the asphalt and into an access panel where it was spliced into the main power circuit. Colored Christmas lights encircled the edge of the roof delineating the area referred to by the staff as The Garden.

Steve was asleep in one of the deckchairs. Lt Jenkins sat in a nearby chair staring at him when Anderson came tearing around the corner. "Pete." He called out. "what the heck's....." 

Jenkins quickly stood to intercept him and shoved Glen less than gently into one of the straight-back chairs. "Shhh." He warned putting a finger to his lips. "You'll wake him up. I just got him calmed down."

"What happened?" Glen asked as he saw his friend squirm restlessly in his sleep.

"I don't know..." Jenkins replied quietly. "He was freaking out in the wardroom when I got there...carrying on about somebody named Tang and calling me Ron. I dragged him up here before Hinney saw him."

"Oh geez!" Glen gasped as he leaned back in the chair. "Tang was the commandant at Lang Bak Prison. Real sadistic SOB. Four of us escaped from there; Me, Steve, a guy named Roger Hennessey and Ron Nicholson." Glen idly eyed Jenkins."You do kind of look like Ron, a little." He observed. "Something must have tripped his trigger. Man, you should have dumped him right on Hinney's desk!" Anderson exclaimed. "Let him see what he's done. What in the world is that old fart up to? He's gonna kill him."

"Glen, what are we going to do?" Jenkins asked his equally concerned mentor.

"Let him sleep for now I guess." Anderson replied. "When he wakes up we can reorient him if we have to. Several times when I was visiting, right after he came out of it, all of a sudden out of the clear blue he'd say some weird stuff. Charlie signs from Korea mostly, something about artillery in the old J-Bird code. Drove his friend Frank nuts. I guess that's why they lock us up when something like this happens. Just from what Frank wrote down...."

" Glen incoming!" Steve cried out as he dove off the deck chair. Landing on his right side he screamed in agony but was jolted back to reality. "How did I get up here?" He asked through clenched teeth.

" You know where you are?" Jenkins asked staring back in shock.

Oh Lord. Now what. "You tell me." Steve replied as Jenkins pulled him to a sitting position.

Brushing away the sand Glen sat down on the asphalt next to him. "You were babbling about Lang Bak. All I know."

"Before I find out about what?" The captain asked as he stepped out from behind the corner.

"Sir! I...before...well...he's." Jenkins stumbled on his words as he leapt to his feet and saluted.

"I'll handle this Pete." Glen interjected as he jumped to his feet."Captain what the hell are you up to? I know you badgered a release for Steve out of the doctors. This is bullshit Sir!." Glen barked as he pointed to towards the dazed McGarrett who was sitting against the deckchair. "A few minutes ago he thought he was back in Korea. You're going to kill him." Anderson took a step closer to the captain and poked his finger in Heinriche's chest. "Anything happens I'm holding YOU personally responsible."

LIEUTENANT. AT EASE!" Heinriche ordered as Jenkins came up behind Anderson, grabbed his arms and restrained them behind his back in an effort to prevent further insubordination. 

"I don't have to justify anything to you Anderson...either of you." The irate Heinriche barked. "Last time I checked Captain is above Lieutenant. Anderson I could have you facing a Board of Inquiry for that outburst." Heinriche threatened. "Touch me one more time and I will." Heinriche threatened. "But.. I will say this much. The last time I saw him in the hospital he was depressed, staring into space, not doing what he was told to. I happened to mention one of the cases he'd had before...he perked up. I thought maybe if he got back here. Maybe. I don't know what I thought....But I sure as hell won't be justifying my actions to a pair of insubordinate junior officers."

"Yeah he never could sit still." Glen agreed reluctantly as he started to calm down. "Let him come visit or something. But Sir he's not together yet."

"You're right." Heinriche acknowledged pulling Steve to his feet. "Take him home. I'll start the paperwork for an indefinite medical."

The two lieutenants headed for the elevator followed by Steve and the captain."Good show son." Heinriche whispered. "I'll see you at 18:00."

"Sir it wasn't..." Steve replied tripping over the powercable.


	2. Chapter 2

Oneofourownpart2 _  
Part2  
_

That evening Steve reluctantly returned to the office as Heinriche greeted him warmly outside the rear entrance. "This thing has gotten me so paranoid." He confessed. "This afternoon I even checked my office for bugs." 

"Plenty of rats though." McGarrett grinned as he detoured towards the coffee machine. 

"Steve." The captain replied smiling in spite of himself. "Rodents do not show up on a voltmeter." 

Steve pulled a chair up to the front of Heinriche's desk to begin attacking the personnel files, as the senior officer cleared a space off the top to make room for his temporary officemate. "I gave Foggarty the job of vetting Seaman Adams." Heinriche announced. 

"I thought it was just you and I in this mess." McGarrett stated and tossed the Andelucci file on the floor beside his chair. 

"Steve, there are three hundred and eighty five names here." Heinriche said. "We can't physically check them all ourselves. Foggarty thinks it's a SOP to vet the enlisted men. He's too new at this job to know the difference." With a sigh of resignation he picked up a photo from under his blotter. "This one's a homosexual." He stated. 

Steve looked up with a start from the file he was reading. "Who?" He asked curiously. 

Heinriche merely handed him the eight by ten-inch black and white glossy print. 

"Dennis Adams?" Steve exclaimed in disbelief. "In crypto?? He's got a wallet full of girls pictures." 

"Poor kid." Heinriche laughed at the memory of the red-faced Foggarty when he had given him the surveillance photograph. "He was so embarrassed he could hardly get the words out." 

"Who is the other guy?" Steve asked disgustedly as he handed back the photo of two naked men embracing on a deserted beach." 

"Don't know yet." Heinriche replied in an equally disgusted tone. "The other five names I gave him are checking out OK so far. But you'll want to follow up on Adams." Heinriche looked at the photo again as he slipped it into his top desk drawer. "Pity that he turned out queer. He was good at his job. I hope that other fagot doesn't turn out to be a sailor too. Scandal like this'll shock the Navy." 

"I hate this job all ready." Steve sighed. 

"I know." Heinriche agreed. "I..." _...you're like a son to me...How can I tell you this..._ "You're about to hate it more. Your friend Lt. Anderson takes alot of trips. Hong Kong, Singapore, Manila, Jakarta, Bombay, a dozen trips to Tokyo, San Diego...heck the man's never home." 

"That's just Glen." Steve replied as he dismissed the implication. "He always says that's what keeps him in the Navy. Free travel." 

"To meet a foreign agent." Heinriche ventured. 

"NO WAY!" Steve exclaimed as he attempted to leap out of his chair but ended up whacking his knee on the edge of the man's desk and fell awkwardly back into the chair. "Not Glen! I know him too well. We were at Lang Bak together. Sir there's no way." He glared intently at his superior officer. 

"I know about him being a POW." Heinriche explained. "But think about it Commander, what better place to recruit a double agent?" 

McGarrett's entire body shook with barely contained rage at the accusation. Steve threw the file he was studying against the wall. "No way, he'd never..." Steve yelled as he came up out of the chair. 

"Think about it logically Commander." Heinriche replied as he instinctively sat back away from the desk. 

Heinriche's flag review was coming up shortly Steve remembered. Would he sell out one of his men? Heinriche himself had said months before that he would sell his soul to the devil if necessary for that star. The thought was more disgusting than McGarrett could stand. "You son of a bitch." He exploded as he came over the desk at his commanding officer. "If you are planning to let Glen twitch just to kiss up to the flag review committee. I WON'T go along with this! You picked the wrong patsy to frame and the wrong guy to build it." While he wanted to pound the man's face Steve settled for punching the desktop instead. "You try and railroad Glen and I'll scream frame-up all the way to the White House if I have to. Career be damned." 

Heinriche was speechless at the tirade directed his way. 

" I don't see a flag in my future anyway." McGarrett continued. "I've turned down a couple of good job offers from civilian contractors. Hang us out and Glen and I'll go someplace and get rich while you'll be lucky if the SecNav gives you Corrosion Control Officer in the Azores. 

"McGarrett relax!" Heinriche ordered. "Sit back down and think about this. Do you honestly believe that I would frame Lieutenant Anderson?" 

"Yes. You would." Was Steve's abrupt answer. 

" I..." Heinriche hesitated. "I'm not like you.people don't. They gravitate to you for some reason. Probably because you are so blindly loyal. But that loyalty may end up getting you hurt in this case. This whole thing.... I don't want to believe its true but in my position I have to. Command can be very lonely sometimes XO; you had better get used to that." The captain stood up and walked around the room. "I know I'm a walking UCMJ but it's the only way I know that makes any sense." As he sat back behind his desk Heinriche stared at the pile of papers on the floor beside him and gave McGarrett a hard stare. "I'm assuming that you weren't aiming that folder at a superior officer." 

"Well you assume wrong." Steve challenged. "I was aiming for your head. I don't know what to believe but I KNOW Glen Anderson is not a commie. I know everything there is to know about him, including the girlfriend he has in Tokyo. He went to San Diego last fall to visit our friend Ron Nicholson the rest were just sightseeing. Glen stays in one place too long he gets bored." Standing up very slowly to his full six foot two inch height McGarrett leaned forwards on the desk and glared at Heinriche. "I won't spy on my best friend Sir. You'll have my resignation in fifteen minutes." 

"OK Steve, if it'll lower your blood pressure I'll do Anderson." Heinriche promised in hopes of defusing the situation. "I didn't know you two were that close. Where does that leave Frank Evershall?" 

"The same." Steve stated matter of factly as he reluctantly sat back down. "I've just known Frank a little longer. There were four of us in the same cell we kept each other alive for three months till we were able to escape. When you're alone in the dark with someone, you learn alot about him. No way Glen is involved in this." McGarrett stated with finality. 

"Maybe they wanted you to escape." The Captain suggested 

"No way! They shot Glen. He almost didn't make it." Steve replied as he suddenly leaned over forwards in his chair. 

"Are you all right?" Heinriche asked in concern as he observed his executive officer's distress. 

"Yeah." Steve replied quietly as he recovered from the memory and with as deep sigh, settled back into the chair. "I.. just an image in my mind I can't shake loose." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. 

"Image of what?" Heinriche asked with concern. 

"The NKs (North Koreans)." Steve replied. "They chased us down in a helicopter. Hennessey was with Ron in the trees. I was still in the brush and Glen was in the clearing. They strafed us from the air. I keep seeing Glen going down." 

"What happened?" The captain asked as he began to wonder about the morning's 'incident' on the roof. 

"I tackled him but it was too late." Steve continued reluctantly."We laid there in the dirt while they circled overhead looking for Ron and Roger. We inched our way to the trees and took off running." As he sat up in the chair McGarrett chuckled "Roger Hennessey is one lucky sob. Only guy I know of to get out of Korea without a purpleheart." 

"Go on." Heinney encouraged as his curiosity grew. "How'd you get out of there?" 

"Once we hit the trail we knew we were going nowhere fast." Steve replied as his discomfort at talking about the event grew exponentially. "Ron was unconscious. Glen could barely breathe. Hennessey was taking care of all of us." Unable to deal with the sudden tenseness Steve stood up and left the office. 

Heinriche wanted to hear the rest of the tale and trailed his officer out into the main office. 

His efforts to avoid the discussion were unsuccessful. The still questioning Heinriche trapped Steve near the exit. 

"They chased us on motorcycles and with dogs. We scared the pants off a recon patrol just outside of Panmoonjohn." He looked at the captain with a distressed expression on his face. "Do we have to discuss this now? It was over with six years ago." 

"Sounds like quite a hellride." Heinney replied wanting to know more. 

"That's putting it mildly." McGarrett retorted. 

"Steve;" Heinriche, finally sensed his XO's reluctance to talk about the event and mercifully dropped the topic. " We have to check everyone you know that." He stated bringing the conversation back to the here and now. "I would expect you to check me too you know." 

And whom do you think I did first? "Already being done. You're checking out OK so far too." 

Heinriche smiled as he opened the steel door. "Let's call it a night. I'll give Foggarty some more names tomorrow." 

Early the following morning McGarrett stood outside his quarters. A gentle breeze blew through his hair, as he debated his course of action. _Nice day for running. _He thought sadly, knowing that it would not only relax him but clear away all the cobwebs so that his mind could focus on the case. The roar of a high performance engine abruptly jerked him away from his rumination. There was a loud squeal of rubber tires as the red 1957 Ferrari backed up to where he stood. 

"Good morning Sir." Ltjg McAdams said with a big grin and quickly shut off the radio as he remembered how semi-loud music had floored his boss earlier. "Feeling better?" 

"I'm fine Lieutenant. Why does everyone keep insisting that I'm not?" Steve replied adhering to his cover. "Nice car." He added. 

"Thanks." The sandy haired officer beamed as he revved the engine. "Brand new. I picked her up after watch yesterday." He rubbed off a microscopic piece of dust from the dashboard. "You want a ride Sir?" 

"Why not." Steve smiled as a new plan popped into his head. "What'd you do rob a bank?" Steve teased as he adjusted the white leather bucket seat to accommodate his long legs. "Very nice." He stated admiringly. _A car like this must have cost a fortune. Mahogany inlay....Christ Lt you'd betray your country for a car?_ "Nice touch." Steve grinned pointing at the brass No Smoking sign on the glove compartment door. "Maybe I'll get one of those for my car." 

Racing along at a break-neck speed McAdams swerved around the corner and nearly collided with a jogger. Looking for a long straight run to impress his boss with the car's power Jerry headed towards the docks only to be trapped behind a series of slow moving trucks. 

A brass band marched past them playing 'Ruffles And Flourishes.' Leaning out of the car Steve could see a destroyer, with its port flags flying proudly in the brisk ocean breeze. The ship had arrived only moments earlier on its end of cruise. _Newest member of the Order Of Neptune. _McGarrett noted as he watched a young ensign direct the docking. Lost in the moment Steve was unaware of the breakup of the traffic jam until McAdams over-revved the engine, which jerked the car forwards. 

"Commander?" McAdams asked concerned by the peculiar distant look on his face."Are you sure you're alright?" He asked as he pulled over to the curb and stopped the car. 

"I'm really getting tired of hearing that question." Steve retorted. He looked up at the US flag atop the jackmast. "You know......of all the things I've done in the Navy." Steve sighed. "That's the one thing I've missed." 

"Huh Sir?" Jerry asked in confusion. _From what stories I've heard he has done it all. _

"End of cruise." Steve explained quietly. "We never made it back here." 

"Oh" The lieutenant uttered as he remembered seeing the group picture on his bosses wall. "Your boat Sir? What ever happened, they sink it for gunnery practice?" 

"No." Steve replied as he looked away from the ship and then at McAdams. "That'd be a blessing really. She's got one to many WW II battle stars, and the first one of the Korean Conflict. With all that and our presidential citation they couldn't scrap her. So they spray painted the decorations on what was left of the bridge, bolted a plaque on and had her towed to Bremerton. The bean counters heisted everything that was worth salvaging, then left her to rust away with the rest of the mothball fleet. Several times I've been tempted to scuttle her myself." 

"How you gonna get a mine on the airplane." Jerry teased as he tried to lighten the mood. "Its not exactly a standard carry on item." 

"Wouldn't take all that." Steve chuckled reluctantly. "Last time I was over there a few sticks of dynamite below the waterline'd do it." Remembering that the Jg had never served on a ship, therefore could not understand the feelings a mariner has for his ship, Steve abruptly dropped the subject. "I guess I'm getting to melodramatic in my old age." He sighed. "Lets go." 

"Yes Sir!" the Jg grinned as he pulled away from the curb. As they passed by the destroyer two sailors quickly dropped their gear bags to salute. Confused, McAdams returned the gesture. "They've never done that before." He commented curiously. 

"It wasn't you they were saluting." Steve explained. "A Ferrari's worth more than a Jg any day. Heck it's worth more than a commander." McGarrett added with a hint of envy. "If you ever need a babysitter for it let me know. They must be paying lieutenants alot more these days. 

"No way! Nobody's touching this car!!" 

Still evading the money question. "How would you like to give your car a real workout?" 

"Sir?" Jerry replied curiously. 

"Have you been up to the satellite research facility lately?" 

"No." The young lieutenant replied. "I don't think anybody's been there since you've been gone. Its up by Kaena Point right?" 

Grinning slyly Steve slumped down in the seat. "Then maybe Lieutenant we should rectify this gross breech of national security immediately. What do you think?" 

"Hinney might have my head Sir." McAdams replied. "He's been a real jerk the past couple of months." 

"You were following the orders of a superior officer." Steve replied, thinking that the trip would afford him ample time to interrogate suspect number two. "If he asks I'll come up with something." 

"Why not." McAdams shrugged and making an abrupt U-turn in the middle of the street and sped towards the gate. "Besides." He laughed at the conspiracy to take the morning off. "After all national security is at stake." 

More than you think Lt. More than you think. 

As they drove North along the coast Steve looked around excitedly at the rapidly passing scenery. _Lucky fools...lying in the warm sand cooking themselves. My God I'd almost forgotten what the ocean looked like. Bikinis! _He thought turning around in the seat. 

"Great isn't it Sir." Minnesota born McAdams smiled. 

"Oh yeah." Steve agreed emphatically as he lay back in the seat and let the sun warm his tense muscles. "You don't realize how great it is just to be alive. Let alone living here." _Dear God I hope you didn't throw it all away for money. Wonder if I could convince him to stop at Kathy's office. Nah, middle of the week she's probably in court. When this little game's over I don't care what the Old Bird has in mind I want a week to do absolutely nothing but sit in the sand and watch the kids surf. Be nice if she could get away too. Dive the reef.... that puts her in the mood. I haven't done a night dive in.....Forget that I have a hard enough time breathing above the water. Maybe I could get Ed Sawyers boat, not like he'll be using it during the week. Drop anchor in the channel for a week. Now that's a plan! _Steve grinned in anticipation as he pointed out that McAdams had missed the turn off. 

After backtracking McAdams reluctantly turned down a seemingly abandoned dirt road with a look of horror on his face as the thick underbrush came within inches of scratching his car. Despite the hard bounce to his ribs from hitting a chuckhole Steve couldn't help himself from laughing at McAdams acute anxiety over his transmission. If he had indeed stolen something from the facility he would have known about the road and found an excuse not to come up here McGarrett decided. But the true test would be staff recognition. A few hundred yards into the brush the dirt track became a two-lane asphalt road much to the relief of Lt McAdams who sped towards the guard post. He brought the car to a quick stop at the razor wire fence. Steve pretended to survey the area surrounding the cement block building while he listened to the discourse between Jerry and the young lance corporal who kept a tight grip on his M-1. After hearing the Jg stammer around for a reason for their presence and thinking the marine might actually use his weapon McGarrett handed over his ID and instructed the sentry to check who's signature was on the authorization list. As the marine left McAdams exhaled in relief. 

When he returned from the guardpost the NCO quickly unlocked the fence and stepped aside saluting smartly. McAdams accelerated through the opening allowing the marine only a fraction of a second to toss Steve's ID into the speeding convertible. There were only a couple of beat up cars in the parking lot and several dirty jeeps. McAdams did not want any of those vehicles to impact his car so he parked right in front of the main door. The officers entered past a second security guard that waved McGarrett through but stared curiously at McAdams. 

Turning to the left the pair entered a brightly-lit laboratory. A thin Aryan man wearing a white labcoat looked up from his graphs and dropped his sliderule in shock. "Was hast du...Freggatekapitan... He stuttered. "Steven! What in the world happened to you?" He walked over to greet his benefactor. 

"Nothing much. Steve grinned as he quickly sat on the lab bench and tried to ignore the swirling room. "Just a difference of opinion in how the Cold War should be run. Hiya Hans. Gerhard. Wie Gehts?" He greeted surprised that he still remembered the German his father had taught him years before. 

"Where have you been my friend?" The stocky physicist exclaimed as he grabbed him unknowingly by the shoulders in a bear hug. "We were starting to wonder about you." He stated as he enthustically pulled Steve to his feet in the embrace. 

"It's a long story Gerhard." Steve acknowledged as he rubbed his right arm after the German had let go. "I'm OK". 

"It's Jerry now. And Henry." He corrected and pointed towards his partner. "We are going to be Americans." 

"I know." Steve replied as he observed McAdams out of the corner of his eye. "I'm lousy at remembering names. Do you ever hear from any of the others?" 

"Werner and Klaus are..." Hans replied. 

"Walter and Clyde." Gerhard corrected. 

"Yes. Yes." Hans retorted towards his partner. "I am sorry but getting used to my new name is difficult enough." 

"Nobody said you had to change it." Steve emphasized. 

"Jah, but I want to." The man replied. "Walter and Clyde are in Florida with NASA, we communicate regularly. That kid Dieter and his Russian friend Rolf have applied to emigrate." 

"Next year when we are citizens." Gerhard announced. "We are going to sponsor them. The only one we do not know of is the Korean....Wang? I have not seen him since Ramstien." 

"Wong Lee." Steve responded. "He is in Seoul with a friend of mine, still looking for his family." 

Hans noticed McAdams confused expression."He did not tell you how we met? 

"No Sir." The lieutenant replied as he set down the metal tube he had been playing with. 

"Steve." Gerhard stated in astonishment. 

"Sorry." McGarrett shrugged innocently. "It never came up." 

"He is the reason we are here." Gerhard beamed. "He rescued us from East Germany." 

"WOW." McAdams replied in amazement at yet another of the legendary Steve McGarrett's exploits. 

"It wasn't a big deal." McGarrett dismissed as he sat back down on the bench. 

"You my friend." Hans scolded. "Are too modest. Five days in the woods with KGB and Statspoleitzi chasing us. We were shot at, blown up and nearly run over by a tank. It was big deal. Jah." 

"So what's been going on up here?" Steve asked changing the subject. "Things still on schedule? _Anybody sell out to the Soviets? _

"Schedule! Hah! We are so far behind. It is ridiculous!!" Hans complained. "One of our best engineers was sent to White Sands. Now our rocketry tech is being taken to NASA. Everything is falling apart." The German complained as he tossed his sliderule on the counter in frustration. "The windows leak. I have to file a stack of papers a decimeter high to request a pencil. They lose forms and I have to do all again then finally after a month I get bananas! And if that is not enough!" He screamed in frustration as he paced the room trying to calm himself. "Das ist new building I am told. But this paGOda... I am not used to such humidity. Der klimatisiert...air conditioner...must be Soviet because it is always broken. "Ich nicht DUmaht." 

"Welcome to the US Navy." Steve said with a wry smile. 

"Steven, I know for myself." Gerhard bemoaned. "Where the Soviets were in their program. If it were not for all this." He made a broad gesture with his arms." We could have beaten them to Sputnik." 

"I only do the security for this and handle the encoding. I can't make Washington do anything." Steve reminded the two scientists as he gestured towards a chalkboard covered with mathematical equations. "All this stuff is way over my head. I barely got through Finite. If Frank hadn't of been my roommate I probably would have been tossed out of Annapolis on academic separation. 22 is enough for me." 

"But you were captain there." Gerhard stated. 

"Football wouldn't have saved me." Steve laughed. _Frank! _The name echoed in his mind. "Would it help if I got you an engineer?" 

"My heavens yes!" Hans replied excitedly. "Can you do that?" 

"I'm not sure." Steve answered as he leaned back against the side of a spectrometer. "If he wants to get involved in 'all this spy stuff' or not. God knows he razzes me about it often enough." McGarrett's mind churned on the possibilities. "I've got a friend I'd like to keep at Pearl." _And I could trust him to keep an eye on this place. _Crossing his arms McGarrett began to formulate his plan. "Come to think of it. I also know an Air Force missile technician who hates snow. Would she be of any use to you?" 

"Oh you are Sinterklaus today!" Gerhard clapped his hands excitedly. " Henry will make locker space. How soon can you get them?" 

" Jah." Hans agreed with a laugh. "And chairs in the cafeteria too." 

"Woah." Steve cautioned and raised his hands to calm the excited scientists. "Don't go putting names on anything yet. I'll have to talk to Heinriche and the Pentagon first. But I'll ask Frank tonight if he's interested. Marilyn will probably jump at anything to get out of Colorado." As he slid off the counter he grinned slyly at them. "And its Santa Claus Commraden." 

After leaving the lab Steve collected a few reports and took McAdams on a reconnaissance of the grounds. On the trip back to the base McGarrett wondered why Hans, who had only a functional command of the Russian language would when excited use at least two Russian words instead of the German equivalent. 

A civilian light aircraft came up in a steep climb from behind the apartment building as Saprestien rounded the corner. The sound of the twin engines coughing erratically as they approached stall angle caused the doctor's heart to skip a few beats. As the plane leveled out and sped away Saprestien wondered what kind of an idiot got his thrills from terrifying not only his passengers but also people on the ground with his barnstorming antics. 

Crazy fool ought to have his certificate pulled for something like that. The doctor thought as he entered the building. 

McGarrett was still somewhat shaken as he turned around to sit on the couch. A short knock at the door interrupted his plan. _Oh now what! _Steve grumbled to himself as he reluctantly opened his front door and quickly tossed the pencil in his hand behind a flower vase in the bookcase next to the door. 

"Good afternoon Commander." Saprestien grinned as he entered the apartment. "I thought you were back under Heinriche's boot heel" 

"Uh...." Steve snapped his fingers as he tried to switch mental gears. "My day off." 

"Oh." Doc replied distractedly as he looked around the tidy livingroom. "Glad to see you're using it constructively." He pointed towards the open sliding lanai door. "Dr Hadrian is upset." Doc continued as he walked through the dining room/kitchen 

"Why?" Steve asked as he followed in confusion behind the diminutive physician. "I haven't seen him for several days." 

"Exactly." The MD said with a laugh. "Your appointment was at 0930 this morning." 

McGarrett looked at his watch and discovered that it was nearly 1400. "Nuts!" He said under his breath. "I forgot. Sorry." 

"And a couple of rehab sessions which has Capelli in a snit." Saprestien added as he strolled out onto the deck. "Nice view!" The physician smiled as he sat in the far deck chair. "Those two want to get back to Tokyo, and if you keep missing appointments we're going to have to stay longer. I, on the other hand.... don't mind the duty here. " Then asked curiously. "Is this a typical apartment here?" 

"I suppose so." Steve answered suspiciously as he pointed to a corner of the lanai. "It has an ocean view...if you look carefully." 

"Where?" The MD asked as he squinted at the horizon in the general direction McGarrett had gestured. 

"Right there." Steve laughed as he sat in a nearby chair. "Just past the weather building." 

"Oh yeah." _wonder what that guy's doing on the roof over there. _Doc mused but dismissed it as just a maintenance man working on the Weather Operations Building's antiquated ventilation system. "That tiny little blue patch?" He inquired. 

"Yep." Steve grinned. "That's the East Loch." 

"Well now that's pushing it a bit." Doc teased. "But it's a nice place." 

OK if he thinks I'm supposed to be at work then the medical's a fake all the way. McGarrett's suspicion was aroused by the man's odd visit. _Either that or he's just found out about it. What does he want with me? Heinriche must be up to something._ "Thanks. I like it." He smiled then switched into an interrogation mode. "What's up? You didn't come all the way over here because of Hadrian's bruised ego. Something's going on." 

"You ARE a detective all right." Saprestien replied with a smile as he slumped down in the chair and flicked a ladybug off his arm. "I'm thinking about putting in for a transfer. I've really liked it here the past 3 months. Is the weather always like this?" 

"You've survived the frigid Honolulu winter." Steve laughed. 

"Is it hard to get stationed here?" Doc inquired as he helped himself to a glass of ice tea from the pitcher on the table. 

"Best kind." Steve stated. "Darjeeling. I have it couriered in from Bombay. My Gramma used to make suntea on the fire escape in the summer. Here I can have it year around." 

"Couriered?" Doc asked curiously. 

"Yeah. In the diplomatic pouch. Herb used to be stationed here. I send him macadamias and passionfruit and he sends me tea. Now if I just knew somebody in Subic..." 

"Larry Abernathy's stationed there. I went through OCS with him. Why would you want to know some one there?" 

"There's nothing like a Philippine mango." Steve sighed. 

"Oh yeah?" Doc replied with raised eyebrows. "Larry'd go for a deal like that. How long did it take you to get transferred here?" 

"Five years." Steve laughed uproariously at the shocked look on Saprestein's face. "But the war got in the way." As Doc recovered his composure Steve continued. "I left Tokyo under kind of bad conditions, but if I recall the paperwork took about six weeks." 

"Really. How long does it take to get a jungle apartment like this?" Doc asked as he played with a philodendron leaf. 

"Couple weeks or so. But the jungle's not included. I planted it myself." 

"Well you've got a green thumb." Doc commented and pointed at a large crack in the wooden planter box suspended from the deck rail. "Your herbs overfloweth." 

"Yeah I know." Steve replied with a sigh and began to look at the condition of the rest of his plants. "I've got to trim back the oregano. The philodendron is a weed. That's what I have to have around here, kill-proof plants. Glen and I trade herbs. He's the farmer I just spray what he tells me and God does the watering." 

Doc eyed the plants one by one."Well the tomato bush is looking pretty healthy. Why that of all things?" 

"Outgrowth of a 'limited war'." Steve replied bitterly as he relayed the story. "There was port on the Han River which according to Washington was off limits, yet we were supposed to destroy the boats leaving it. For years we scouted the place and radioed back the coordinates of the barges leaving Hansuk to the Air Force. The trip took 3 days both in and out. There was a guy in the division, Jimmy Joe Bob Warren." Steve chuckled at the memory. "Tennessee farm boy. He had the brilliant idea that we deserved something better than C-rations, so all along the path he planted vegetables. He was a chemist before he got drafted, made fertilizer out of the strangest things, gun powder, signal flares, just about anything he could get his hands on. And whoever's turn it was to go Up North would take along a jug of plant food. Some of the biggest vegetables I've ever seen were a result of that 'unauthorized' operation." 

"Where is he now?" Saprestien inquired. 

"I don't know." Steve replied. "He disappeared about the same time I did, only he never made it back. Somebody found the cross that he always wore...." 

"Sorry." Doc stated quietly as Steve stared absently at the horizon. "I was a draftee that stayed." 

"They never found his body." Steve continued. "And he didn't come through Freedom Gate. Last year a letter from Allied Chemical somehow wound up on my desk. The project deputy director was listed as James Warren." 

"The same guy?" Doc asked. 

"No." Steve replied sadly. "I was sure that it had to have been him, but the guy I talked to on the phone had the worst Bostonian accent I've ever heard. Said he got married to a woman with three kids to keep himself from being drafted." 

"Jim Warren, you said?" The doctor said trying to be positive. "It's not an uncommon name." 

"Yeah I know." Steve replied staring at the cloud pattern. "But I keep thinking he's out there somewhere....." 

A shrill noise interrupted his thoughts. "Excuse me." Steve interjected as he stood up and left to answer the ringing phone. 

Curious as to what was going on Doc followed him into the living room and overheard Steve's end of the conversation. 

"You got it? Good job Chief." McGarrett congratulated. "That was quick, what'd you do shoot it down?" He added teasingly. "November four-seven-six-three-niner." Steve answered glancing at the notepad that was beside his telephone. "Niner-three-six. Way my brain works lately, yeah its possible. Is it a blue and white Beech? That's it." He said as he sat down on the couch. " The SOB almost took my deck off; with me on it! Book the pilot and give the passengers our usual scare lecture. I'll interrogate 'Lucky Lindy' later." Steve ordered as he put his feet up on the coffee table. "I know we can't detain him too long without getting the civvies upset. Few hours in the brig'll set a good example. Oh come on Chief." Steve groaned as he laid his head back against the leather couch. "Can't you handle it? No I'm OK. ...He said what!" Steve yelled and sat up straight. "That's a crap excuse. He's trying to get off the hook. You've got him where??" Steve asked leaning over forwards and running his fingers through his hair. "No kidding?!. OK Chief I'll be over there in a little bit. Get a squad out there. Nobody talks to each other and under no circumstances does anyone go near the plane. Hell Chief." McGarrett chuckled. "I couldn't hit a bullet with the side of a barn." 

"What in the world?" Saprestien asked with concern as Steve returned from the rear bedroom dressed in a tan uniform and with his arm in a sling. "You didn't knock something out of whack I hope." 

"Nah." Steve grinned slyly as he grabbed his hat off the counter. "Some sky jockey came tearing through here almost took my deck off. God only knows what he did to his plane but he made an emergency landing just as our fighters were scrambling to catch him. Now he's trying to get out of trouble by saying I shot him down." 

"What!" Doc replied in disbelief. "That's ludicrous." 

"Exactly." Steve laughed wiggling the fingers of his right hand. "Let him explain how I did it." 

"Now this I've got to see." Doc replied with a grin as he followed Steve out the door. 

"Fine." Steve replied as he put his keys in his pants pocket. "All the more effective. You drive." 

"Are you alright Commander?" The captain asked as Steve entered the office. "Chief told me what happened." 

"Yeah. I'm fine." Steve replied sitting in the chair across from Heinriche's desk. "But you should have seen the look on the jerks face when I got out of the car." McGarrett laughed. "He still swears I took a shot at him. On my best day I doubt I could hit the rudder cable on a moving plane. The FAA rep is going over his maintenance records. From what I overheard an IRS audit would be less painful." 

"No more than he deserves." Heinriche answered. "One of our lieutenants has an expensive new car." He informed. "I heard him bragging." 

"McAdams Sir." Steve replied. "Cherry red Ferrari convertible. I had a ride in it this morning. It's a fine machine. He had a rich uncle in Arizona who passed away. I checked with the dealer, the banks, and the uncle's lawyers. The documents are on the way but it checks out OK. And he's got a nice chunk of change left. It looks like the whole things legit." Steve stated as he toyed with his pen. "Or the best cover I've ever come across." 

"Ferrari." Heinriche mused. "The boy better enjoy it now because soon as he's married....." The captain grabbed a file off the stack and tossed it in front of Steve. "32 Packard. Jet-black. I loved that car." 

"What happened to it?" Steve asked casually. 

" My wife Milly wrecked it while I was at sea on the Arkansas. I came home to a station wagon. I swear I almost divorced her because of it." 

"The Arky Sir?" Steve laughed. "That old rust bucket. I spent my youngster cruise sweating in Turret Number 3." 

"Well she was a NEW rust bucket then." He retorted defensively. "That car of yours is pretty nice." 

"Thanks." Steve replied searching for his notebook among the folders. "But it's not my first one. Deep purple Pontiac I inherited when Elliot Nash graduated. Probably half the football mids have gotten lucky in that car. Nuts!" McGarrett swore under his breath as his pen fell on the floor. 

Steve's world started to go black and the blood pounded in his ears as he bent over to retrieve it. He attempted to sit back up much too quickly, banged his head against the corner of Heinriche's desk and slumped to the floor. 

"Men and their toys..." Heinriche stated philosophically. "What ever happened to...." He stopped abruptly when he noticed his audience missing. "McGarrett?" He called curiously. "Where...Oh God!" Heinriche exclaimed as he quickly rounded the desk and knelt on the floor. "McGarrett!" He began to shake the man back to consciousness. 

After several tense minutes Steve slowly awoke. "I'm OK." He groaned as he tried to roll over onto his back. 

"Bull!" Heinriche barked as he carefully pushed him into a supine position. 

Steve's vision slowly began to clear and he found himself staring at the underside of Heinriche's desk. Confused at what he was seeing McGarrett rubbed is eyes. When he realized what it was he saw he suddenly pulled Heinriche down with him and pointed to the underside of the desk. 

"Damn!" Heinriche swore under his breath as he quickly pulled Steve up and sat him in the chair. "Commander what...." The captain stopped abruptly as McGarrett grabbed his forearm and shot him a semi-focused warning glare. 

Steve whisked his notebook off the desk and tore out a sheet of paper and hastily wrote

I thought you swept for bugs! 

The captain angrily snatched away the pen and scribbled on the same sheet. 

I did this room myself!!!! How??? 

Steve stared at the Old Man and wrote.

Are there more in here??? 

The captain motioned for Steve to remain still while he moved behind his desk and quietly slid open the bottom drawer and pulled out a voltmeter. "Commander you look a little green." He said nonchalantly. 

"I'm OK Sir." Steve said with an assured tone in his voice as he watched the captain's movements. 

"The hell you are." He said as he slowly closed the drawer. "A knock on the head like that? Let's go. The night air will do you good." 

The pair carefully swept through the outer offices and located several more microphones. Steve grabbed his jacket of his desk and gestured towards the door. 

Outside in the alley Steve sat on the pavement and leaned back against the wall. "We've got to get those bugs out of there!" He stated intensely. 

"Thank God we talked about that kids car." Heinriche sighed in relief as he sat next to him on the cool asphalt. "Good thing you passed out when you did." Heinney laughed and slapped him playfully on the leg. "We didn't have time to say anything about the case." 

"Well, that's the only good thing about all of this." Steve retorted as he rubbed his stiff neck. "We have to get rid of those things." 

"No Commander, we don't." Heinriche corrected. "Then they know we are onto them. So far they don't know that we know about the leak." 

Steve slowly pulled up his knees and leaned forwards against them trying to calm himself. "At least we know now for sure it's one of our own." He said finally. "Dammit" Sitting back up he leaned against the wall wishing he had of worn his rib brace. "What day is it?" He asked formulating a plan. 

Tuesday the 8th." Heinriche informed. "Why?" 

"Good." Steve replied confidently. "Tomorrow morning call Glen in your office, tell him there's a directive from Washington: The 10th of every month all intelligence stations will sweep for bugs." 

"We haven't ruled him out yet." Heinriche reminded. 

"I HAVE!!" Steve glared at the captain. "Don't start with that crap again, I'm not in the mood. Who ever planted those bugs will have to get them out of there tomorrow. Keep note of who's in your office." 

"That'll include Anderson." Heinriche added as he returned the glare. 

Steve slowly rolled his head from side to side as he slumped down the wall. "You really think its him don't you?" He asked as he stared up at his CO. "Well this isn't a game for me anymore, and I don't have time to waste on that ridiculous idea." 

"I don't want to think its anybody." Heinriche replied. _For his sake I hope it isn't Anderson. Blind loyalty like that just gets you hurt. I've got to find a way to show him I'm not out for a flag with this. If this isn't irony I don't know what it is. The one man I trust thinks I'm railroading his best friend. Oh well.... another sleepless night.....I don't know how many more of these I can stand._ Heinriche thought as he looked over at his slightly glassy eyed Executive Officer lying against the cement. _Hum..I'll bet you sleep really good too...All those brown capsules I see you taking._ The captain thought enviously. _Maybe if I ask he'll give me one...just for tonight....Albert! What are you thinking!!!!! _"But now its no longer an exercise. Its real!" He stated finally. 

"OK. Then tell him in the hallway or something but near one of the bugs." Steve retorted. 

"I suppose that would be a way of testing Anderson." Heinriche said as he stood. "Agreed. We can't do anything more tonight. Drive you home?" 

Holding onto the wall McGarrett painfully stood up refusing to let Heinriche help him. "We can't be seen together Sir. Remember." 


	3. Chapter 3

Oneofourownpart3

McGarrett's mind was charged with a dozen different thoughts each clamoring for attention. He decided to drive around the base until the adrenaline rush wore off. Sad, mad, disgusted,and confused...Steve's focus was not on his surroundings. As he turned onto the docks a movement at the far end of a deserted pier caught his attention. He saw a lone figure silhouetted, in the moonlight, at the edge of the long concrete pier. Steve quickly turned off his headlights and parked at the edge of the dock. Quietly he approached the distraught man who stood with his shoulders hunched over. As the man turned in profile McGarrett recognized him. At the same instant he saw a gun in the man's right hand.

"Hargrove!" He yelled as he took several hurried steps towards the man. "What the hell are you doing!"

Hargrove was the same height as McGarrett and normally just as fastidious about his clothing, but this night his uniform shirt was rumpled and hanging out of his torn dirt streaked pants. Frightened by the unexpected interruption he turned towards the intruder and with shaking hands leveled his gun.

Seeing the wild unfocused look in the man's sunken eyes Steve slowed his pace and calmly, despite his pounding pulse, approached the panicked officer. He held his hands up in front of him palms forwards. He was sure he could disarm the man quickly. "Give me the gun Dean." McGarrett ordered.

"Get back!" Hargrove shouted as he waved the pistol wildly.

Steve heard the familiar click of metal as Hargrove pulled the Colt's slide back to chamber a bullet. He quickly dove behind a nearby concrete projection as the man fired three erratic rounds at him. Rolling onto his back it took several attempts for him to slide up the wall to a seated position as he assessed the situation. Breathing very shallow he stood up painfully splinting his ribcage with his right arm. "What the hell Dean!" He yelled and cautiously stepped out from behind the wall. "You trying to kill me or something!"

"McGarrett!" The despondent man, his mood cycling rapidly, exclaimed in a jovial voice. "What are you up to?"

"Me?" Steve replied as he took several carefully measured steps towards Hargrove. "You're the one with the gun. Now very calmly, I want you to hand it to me butt end first alright." He ordered and tried to reassure the agitated man.

"You're not supposed to be...!" Hargrove screamed in a panic and began to wave the pistol again. "Get away from me. They'll get both of us!"

"Who are they?" Steve asked firmly as he stood his ground. "Dean. Trust me, there's nobody here but you and me. Calm down. Think about this. You don't want to die."

"They got me man!" He shouted as he frantically scanned the area. "I can't get away. They're following me....."

"What!" Steve replied as he searched the area for signs of other individuals and took a few more steps towards Hargrove. "Who?" He asked noting the shattered whiskey bottle on the ground beside Hargrove.

"The Ruskies!" Hargrove whispered. "They're everywhere. Even in my sleep."

"Dean, tell me what happened." Steve asked in his best comforting voice as he swiftly closed the distance between them and put his arm cautiously around the man's shoulders.

"I...woke up..." He stuttered. They were standing....Both of them. Bortzoff"

"Who?" McGarrett asked as he tried to lead Hargrove away from the water.

"He...Oh God!!" Dean screamed as he grabbed his head in an effort to block out the hallucination.

"Dean, what are you....." Steve continued to speak as he seized the opportunity to grab the gun and wrestled Hargrove to the ground.

As they rolled around on the wet slippery pier grappling for the weapon Dean managed to get Steve's right arm into a bar lock and grabbed the weapon back from him as he lay in a fetal position on the cold concrete.

"No! I have to do this." Hargrove stated with finality as he leveled the gun at McGarrett's head. "Get back Steve!"

"Dean come off it!" Steve demanded through his clenched teeth as he stared at Hargrove's twitching finger on the trigger. "You don't want to kill me. Now who in the hell is Bortzoff?" He asked as he carefully sat up and hesitatingly moved his arm through range of motion.

"He.....held me in Bucharest..." Hargrove said as tears began to stream down his face,reluctantly he handed the gun down to McGarrett and with a deep sigh collapsed onto the ground and curled up into a ball. "I can't take this anymore....Oh God." Dean suddenly became aware of what he had tried to do and clung to McGarrett's outstretched leg. "What am I doing?"

"I don't know" Steve replied reassuringly. "But it's not good." As he tried to comfort his friend as best he could. "What happened in Bucharest?"

"Classified..." Dean choked out between sobs.

"Come on." Steve retorted as he cautiously took a few deep breaths. Fortunately nothing seemed to be broken or dislocated. "Save me the trouble of getting the file."

"OK." Hargrove surrendered as he sat up and wiped his eyes on his torn shirtsleeve. "I was supposed to bring out an agent. Bortzoff got both of us. He held me...for over a week...beat the crap out of me nonstop." Dean explained in a flat tone of voice. " Killed the guy right in front of me....his wife and baby....I ran. After that I transferred out here. I thought I was away from it." Hargrove put his head between his knees and rubbed the back of his neck. "But downtown last week it came back." Turning I close my eyes, I see that monster. Steve am I cracking up?"

"I don't know exactly." Steve replied sincerely. "But I think you need help."

"You never..." Dean ran his hands through his wild hair. "Steve I've never seen you chip let alone crack."

"Hey, I've had my share of basket case moments too, believe me." Steve said as he looked around the pier again. "It's OK Dean. Let's get out of here all right?"

"I guess so." Dean replied reluctantly as he stood up and pulled Steve to his feet. "I'm done for aren't I?"

"Let the shrinks worry about that." Steve replied as he gently patted him on the back. "I saw alot of guys in Korea loose it...most of them are doing OK today. One's even a general now." He added reassuringly.

There had been worse days in his life than this one, Steve decided, but not many. Even though he was completely exhausted and his arm and ribs throbbed from the fight with Hargrove. McGarrett knew it was useless to attempt sleep. He tossed his soiled uniform into the hamper and realized that tomorrow was the day the maid would arrive at his apartment. When she left there would be fresh towels in the closet; his laundry and shopping would be done for the week. The next afternoon she would drop off his dry-cleaning at the office. _Thank God for Mrs. Monahan! _He sighed; at least one part of his life would be under control.

Thinking about the **Ukrainian** pastries and chicken soup she had brought him in the hospital Steve realized he had forgotten about supper. Wearing sweatpants and his favorite multicolored floral aloha shirt he grabbed a banana from the counter and choked down a Mepergan caplet with a glass of his favorite Darjeeling and headed out onto the lanai.

For some unknown reason he had brought along Hargrove's gun and placed it on the table beside the deckchair. Steve stared up at the stars as the medication slowly took effect and was almost asleep when Frank bumped his way into the darkened apartment.

"Hey Steve, what're you still doing up?" Evershall asked as he joined his friend on the deck.

Startled by the noise Steve grabbed Dean's Colt off the table and whipped around in his chair in order to level the gun at the intruder.

"What the hell" Frank stuttered as he stared at McGarrett's intense expression, uncertain if he should duck or stand still.

"Oh Geez Frank! Don't do that!" Steve shouted as he finally recognized his friend and dropped the gun back onto the table.

"Do what!!" Evershall retorted still feeling like his heart was in his throat. "Steve are you OK?!" He asked as he cautiously sat in the other chair.

"Yeah." McGarrett replied quietly.

"Then why in the world are you sitting out here with a gun waiting to blow my head off?" Frank demanded as he took several deep breaths in order to calm his pounding heart.

"I'm sorry about that." Steve apologized and wondered what had made him react like that. "It's not even my gun, mine's still in China someplace." He settled back in the chair.

"What's going on?" Frank demanded again.

"Friend of mine tried to kill himself tonight." Steve answered as he fingered the gun on the table.

"Oh man that's rough" Frank replied somberly. "Did he?"

"No." Steve replied as he stared out at the twinkling stars. "I caught him in time. But it was close."

"Doesn't make sense." Frank wondered as he scratched at his receding hairline. " Unless..he was sick, cancer or something."

"I'm not exactly sure why yet. Our business is an emotional roller coaster sometimes. You wouldn't understand." Steve answered as he painfully turned in his chair to face Frank. "And I'm glad for you that you don't." Steve's expression became intense again as he continued to explain. "There's an adrenaline rush like you wouldn't believe on a covert mission. One slip up behind the line and somebody puts a bullet through your brain. You live your cover from what he eats for breakfast to what color pajamas he does or doesn't wear. Twenty-four hours a day until the assignment's over. It's such a schizophreniform existence that sometimes you loose yourself for an instant. I don't know. I guess maybe Dean just didn't find his way back." Steve leaned back in the chair and watched the blinking lights of an airplane pass overhead. "Some of the things I've done for God and Country....you don't want to know. Even if I was allowed to tell you." He added quietly. "It's a wonder we all haven't cracked up."

"Steve you're too stubborn to break." Evershall replied with reassurance. "All that's gone on the past 3 months. If you haven't by now you aren't going to."

"Don't bet on it." Steve replied in resignation. "I've ran alot of marathons and spent quite a few nights on the beach. Sometimes...."

"Steve?" Frank asked apprehensively. "What are you talking about?"

Whether it was Hargrove, the medication or a combination of both McGarrett found himself strangely introspective. Frank Evershall, the first real friend he'd ever known, always had a logical approach to any situation. He could be trusted.

"You never noticed I spend alot of time outdoors?" Steve asked.

"So." Evershall dismissed with a wave of his hand. "You've always..."

"It's a quirk I picked up after Lang Bak. For months after that I could barely walk let alone run, about all I could do was sit in Master Park's garden. I stay inside too long and the walls close in."

"You're putting me on. Claustrophobia? You??" Frank replied dumbfoundedly. Steve McGarrett had a few faults but fear was not one of them. "Come on. You're in an office all day. Airplanes. Cars. This is one of your little jokes right."

"No. Its not." Steve retorted. "A long as there's a window I'm OK. I just think better outdoors."

"Oh great! Some guy goes whacko and now you think you're nuts." Frank chided. "Sometimes you're too empathetic for your own good. Get over it!" As Frank shifted in his seat he could see the intensity in his friends eyes." In the hospital you were only out twice, when Kathy came and the day I took you to the hanger. And you survived."

"Barely." Steve smiled reluctantly. "Fourth medical wasn't so bad when the window was open and Glen made sure of that. But those weeks in ICU I thought my heart was going to leap out of my chest." Steve confessed

"My God: You're serious about this." Frank replied noting Steve's sudden tenseness. "Why on Earth didn't you say something?"

"And just what was I going to say." McGarrett retorted. "Gee Doc I hope you don't mind, but can I please sleep in the parking lot. Let him think my heart rate was up for some other reason."

"Steve." Evershall apologized. "I swear I never knew. It explains a few things though. But trust me you're alright."

"Not exactly." Steve sighed in resignation. "Past few days I keep having weird images in my head."

"Oh good God Steve, that's nothing but a leftover from the crash." Evershall scolded. "I'm sure. Nothing else. You were saying all kinds of odd things for a while."

Odd??" Steve asked with raised eyebrows and hoped that the helicopter scenario was among them and he could write the flashbacks off as just that, leftovers from the crash.

"Glen said it was Charlie somethings from Korea." Frank stated. "The only one I remember is Purple Dragon Rider. That one came up alot."

"Charlie signs probably. They're challenge/response codes. But that's not what purple dragon rider was."

"What was it? Never mind...." Frank replied as he rolled his eyes. "National security...."

"It was the name of the China mission. What else did I say? Evening Dog Bush???" He asked hopeful that the mission he was captured on had come up.

"I don't know..it was all gibberish to me. I wrote most of them down if you want to read for yourself." Frank informed. "Lana's got a nice sweater."

Steve stared blankly at him for several moments then replied. "But Rita's got a better skirt. That was a Charlie sign. What else??"

"Steve I don't remember." Frank replied impatiently and slumped down in his seat. " There were several whole series of numbers and letters. It sounded algebraic but I couldn't make a formula out of any of them."

Six characters then a three-letter sequence??" Steve asked excitedly as he thought some sense could be made out the whole mess.

"Heck I don't know. Probably. Why??"

"That would be a code." Steve replied and decided he would get old the codebook from Heinriche somehow._ Maybe somewhere in that I might have mentioned Lang Bak. All the effort I went to forget that place. Now my sanity depends on if I'm remembering it. _"You'd never figure out what it was without the book and an authenticator number to tell you which book. I'd bet on J-bird. I did alot of work in that one. God I hope you're right and I'm not cracking up."

"Steve," Frank reassured. "You are probably the most stable person I know. What ever is going on with you I'm sure is only physical."

"What's the difference?" Steve quietly replied as he stared at the stars. "Aren't the mental and physical all connected somehow?"

"Yeah, I suppose." Frank added. "But you are not going insane! Geez. I didn't know there was so much to the spy business."

It's not exactly recruiting poster stuff Frank." Steve replied as he grinned at his friend.

"Now there's an understatement." Frank laughed as he selected a macadamia nut out of the bowl on the table.

"I know this is really bad timing but.....how'd you like to work for me?" Steve asked.

Shocked by the question Frank was completely at a loss for words. "WHAT!" Was all he finally managed to croak out. "That's a joke right?"

"I'm serious. You like your job in Japan?"

"It's a job. That's about it." He replied with a shrug of his shoulders and looked at his friend skeptically. "Steve what are you getting at?"

"You know about Sputnik."

"Steve. The whole world heard that blip blip." Frank scoffed.

"Well, what you didn't hear." McGarrett informed. "We have a design that'll put the Russians years behind. I don't understand all the technical hooey, suffice to say once we get it up we'll be able to read the tag on Kruschev's underwear."

"Holy..." Frank whistled in amazement. This evening was one of only a few glimpses Evershall had ever gotten into what Steve did for the Navy.

"It's being developed here in Hawaii." Steve added. "I've been in charge of the security and encoding for two years now. A couple of Germans are running the show. The project's way behind schedule and now I hear they're short an engineer and a rocket tech. How about it Frank? You'd be building satellites."

"Oh my God Steve. I never." Evershall stuttered in amazement. "Space engineering. I never thought I'd get a chance at something like that...who do I have to kill."

"No one." Steve laughed. "It's not official yet. I'd have to talk to Washington. I wasn't sure you'd be interested. The downside being you'd be directly involved with 'all that spy stuff' you razz me about. And you'd be keeping an eye on the Germans for me."

"Boy, you don't trust anyone do you." Evershall laughed.

"In God we trust. All others we monitor." Steve grinned. "That's our motto."

"I can deal with it I guess. As long as I don't have to wear a shirt like that." Frank teased.

"Hey." Steve feigned insult."This shirt has got class! But that mangy academy baseball shirt you've hung onto.... has got to go."

They both laughed.

"When will you know?" Frank asked.

"I don't know for sure." Steve replied and sighed at the thought of the current case. We've got a few other problems right now that are taking precedence. I can probably have Heinriche call Washington next week. Three letters of recommendation ought to be enough. Then there's the transfer paperwork. It's an integrated program, I'm thinking about asking if Marilyn wants to give up her snow skis."

"Oh she'll do that alright." Frank replied. "Who's going to write the letter besides you?"

"Heinriche."

"Oh terrific." Frank interrupted dejectedly. "Get me excited then pull the rug out. He'd rather dance with a cobra."

"Don't believe everything you hear." Steve, based on a recently found respect for his boss, added. "If he didn't like you, you wouldn't still be here."

"That's one good. And one I'm not so sure about. Who casts the deciding vote?"

"Glen. He'll do it if ask him to." Steve replied. "You turn in something even halfway decent with the MIG and you're in."

The following evening Heinriche was waiting outside the rear entrance of the Intelligence building smoking his pipe when Steve arrived. "Good Lord, where did you park?" The captain asked as he stared in concern at his winded agent.

"CinCPAC lot." Steve answered as he leaned against the doorframe trying to catch his breath. " There are at least a dozen staff cars in there. One more won't be noticed."

"Across the street, and you're this tired?" Heinriche shook his head. "I can't believe I'm doing this to you."

"Trust me Sir." Steve grinned wryly. "You are."

"Good job." The older man replied as he carefully slapped him on the back as they entered the building. "I checked the place again just before you got here. They forgot one in the garden otherwise all clean."

"The fink even bugged our plants?!" Steve exclaimed as he returned from the wardroom with his coffee cup. "OK, lets have the list. Who was in your office Sir?"

"Foggarty." Heinriche replied as he removed a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and began to read from it. "Ensign Tomlich, Warniki from Crypto, Lauri, Fitzsimmons, Meijer in Crypto, Eigerstein from Linguistics, Pearsen from Records, Walters in Supply and Seaman Quinn."

Steve closed his desk drawer and stared at the dark heavy shades that covered his window. "You know Sir. Who'd ever of thought the old black out curtains still had any use today."

"Technology will make us obsolete one day." Heinriche replied philosophically.

"Never." Steve replied in a flat voice. "We deal with human interactions. These new computers can crack a code in less than a day and that's great but no machine can predict a man's thoughts. Our motives are sometimes just too illogical to figure." After a pause to sip his coffee, Steve returned the conversation back to the business at hand. " Now we've got some more suspects.

"More?" Heinriche replied with surprise.

"Yeah. Seems like I can't rule anyone out. McAdams is probably 99.9% clear. Adams: blackmail. Hans and Gerhard: loyalties back home. Fitzsimmons likes to gamble. Moricelli is supporting his parents back in Nebraska. Guys with large families. One or two with a son in college. Heck even Dean Hargrove claims the Russians are after him."

"It's too bad about him." Heinriche sighed. "He was a good agent. Wait a minute, did you say Fitzsimmons. That's it! He's on both lists. We've got our man!!"

"Bill?" Steve replied with raised eyebrows. "He likes to gamble but..The man's got two citations that I know of and a Silver Star. He spent six months in a POW camp Up North. I really can't believe he would sell his country."

"Good men do go bad." Heinriche rationalized. "Unfortunately."

The loud groan of a motor abruptly halted their conversation. Both men caught their breath as they looked towards the glass doors.

"Sir!" Steve whispered as he rushed for the light switch. "Someone's coming up in the elevator."

Heinriche quickly grabbed their cups from off the desk as Steve scooped up his jacket and the pair quickly hid in the captain's office.

A dark haired officer entered the outer office and flipped on the lights as he tossed some papers on his desk.

The captain peered through the venetian blinds into the room. "Ensign Tomlich!" Heinriche whispered as he reached for the doorknob. "Lets get the traitorous bastard!!"

"Hold it Sir!" Steve cautioned as he blocked Heinriche's egress. "He hasn't done anything yet. He might just be working late. He's got the time in grade and you ARE working on the promotions list."

"You're right." The captain agreed and returned to his position at the blinds. "I thought I liked the boy. Where is Fitzsimmons? Can you find him?"

"Bill's at the Officer's Club most every night during the week." Steve answered as he took a quick peek at Tomlich.

"Very well. You go question him. I'll watch this one." Heinriche ordered as he pointed toward Tomlich who had settled into his chair and began to work.

"Is that really wise Sir? If it's him you're here alone.

"I'm not a dottering old man Commander! Get out of here while he's not looking. If it's him I'll call the SP's."

"Very well Sir." Steve agreed. "If you need me call the club and tell the bartender you are Lt. Ryan."

Steve entered the Officer's Club as Admiral Winters and his wife were about to enter the restaurant."Good Evening Commander McGarrett." The Admiral greeted. "Haven't gotten your hat updated yet I see" The man in charge of the Pacific Fleet teased the newly promoted commander. "Took me a while to get used to company grade status, too."

"Sir?" Steve replied curiously as he returned the salute.

"You're Al Heinriche's XO now. Couple of those long boring senior staff meetings he skips out on are coming up. Always makes me wish I was just an ensign again." The Admiral smiled as he guided his wife towards the reservations desk. "See you then. Have a nice night Commander."

Confused by the Admirals comments Steve paused on the steps that headed down into the informal recreation area. As he scanned the room for Fitzsimmons he wondered if it was a good or bad sign that the CinCPAC would call him by name.

"McGarrett!" a tall husky man, who was just beginning to show the signs of middle age, yelled across the room. "How the hell are ya?!"

"Hi Bill." Steve answered as the man walked over and practically dragged him across the room to his customary table. "Little fuzzy but OK. You didn't happen to catch the Notre Dame game did you? I started to listen to it and conked out in the third quarter."

"Yeah I caught it all right." Fitzsimmons answered in a slightly irritated voice as he shoved the bowl of chips towards his friend. "Lost ten bucks to Commander Enlow on it. Stanford 101 Notre Dame 100 in overtime."

"Wow. Sounds like I missed something." Steve answered as he reluctantly began to eat one of the potato chips. "I thought after your loss on the Giants/Green Bay game you'd have learned your lesson." _Maybe he is in debt to somebody_ He wondered.

"Awh hells bells I'm no gambler." Fitzsimmons dismissed. "You should know that. You got $30 off me for those lousy Packers. I just bet for fun." He jokingly pointed a finger at Steve. "Now if you'd tell me your secret then maybe I could be a few bucks ahead."

"No secret." Steve grinned. "Just research. Green Bay had lousy odds but they were a better team than New York. Besides...." McGarrett grinned as he slumped down in the chair. "My firstie year the quarterback was a freshman at Yale. We were so far ahead of them that the last quarter they played him against us. Under stress he's got lousy aim to the left side. He's never corrected that. Green Bay had a strong left line last season."

"Research huh." Bill laughed. "OK who do you like for the NCAA finals. I'll bet with you."

"I don't bet on basketball. Besides I was unconscious most of the season remember." Steve replied. "What's wrong?" He laughed and tossed one of the chips at his friend. " Loan shark after you?"

"No. I just want to get my money back from that jerk Enlow. Just tell me who....off the top of your head."

"Bill I'm not going to be responsible for your money." Steve said. "Besides I don't even know who's playing."

"Oh come on." The husky Texan insisted. "I'm not going to blame you. Come on. Stanford or 'Bama."

"No." Was Steve's final answer. A distant look grew in McGarrett's eyes as his mind wandered into an area that he did not like but on the surface appeared very logical. _Ah hell. I can't believe I'm doing this._ McGarrett thought sadly. _Six months Up North. Silver star. He couldn't sell his country any more than I could._

"Just guess." Fitzsimmons pleaded. "You're right ninety percent of the time."

"McGarrett!" Bill hollered when he noticed the faraway look in Steve's eyes. He reached over and shook his friend back to reality. "You alright?" He asked.

"Huh?" Steve muttered as he snapped back to the conversation.

"What in the sam hell?" Fitzsimmons replied. "Man an ICBM could have went up your azimuth and you wouldn't have known it.....What's wrong?"

"Just thinking about Pak's Palace." Steve answered distantly.

"Oh man don't start with that crap! I still break out in a cold sweat every time I have to go to Seoul. Somethings you don't forget." Fitzsimmons yelled then gulped down the drink he had been toying with and angrily slammed the empty glass back down on the table. "No matter how hard you try." He added quietly.

"Sorry." Steve apologized to his friend who was still visibly shaken from his own frightful memories. " OK Bill, this is my best guess. If they beat Notre Dame than 'Bama's easy prey. I'll say Stanford by at least ten points." He informed in an attempt to calm his friend. "Are you going to be all right??"

"Yeah." The Texan replied as he ran his fingers through his thinning blonde hair. "Sure. I'm OK. Hey! Ed Nelson's monthly poker game is at his house tonight. Lets go."

"Maybe another time." Steve declined.

"Oh come on. There's two subs in port." Bill urged with a grin. "Fleece the tin can commandos. It'll be fun."

"I'd lose my shirt." Steve replied as he discounted his current abilities.

"You! No way." Fitzsimmons retorted. "I saw you stare down a vice admiral with only a pair of sixes. You've got ice cubes in your veins."

"When all you've got is crap." Steve laughed at the memory. "You have to play it out. I nearly lost my happy island home on that hand. The admiral wanted to take me back to DC with him."

"All the intel guys are going to be there." Fitzsimmons promised as an inducement." I'll bet you haven't seen any of them except probably Anderson. Your puppy Foggarty's been beside himself."

As if on cue Ensign Foggarty entered the room and looked around for Tomlich.

"Hey boy!" Fitzsimmons yelled when he looked up and saw the young man enter the room. "Get your tail on over here. I've got a surprise for you."

Reluctantly the ensign approached his superior. "Evening Sir." He greeted awkwardly. "I'm supposed to be meeting Alvin here."

"Forget that boy tonight." Fitzsimmons laughed as he gulped down his third bourbon since Steve had arrived and waved the empty glass to get the bartender's attention. "He's up to his hippockets in paperwork." Bill sat the empty glass on the table and pointed towards his tablemate. "Look who I found roaming around."

"Commander!" Fogarrty exclaimed in surprise.

"Yep." Bill grinned at McGarrett as he swallowed his fourth drink as soon as the bartender handed it to him and returned the empty double rocks glass to be refilled. "The boy's been having kittens worrying about you."

"Sorry about the music, Sir." The ensign apologized sheepishly. "I didn't think the Big Bopper could floor anybody like that."

"Forget it. It wasn't your fault." Steve replied and wondered how long it would take for everyone to forget about that incident.

"You aren't mad about the party are you Sir?" Foggarty asked.

"No. It was nice. I just don't deal with surprises well."

"Party?!" Lieutenant Fitzsimmons exclaimed. "You had a party and didn't invite Ol' Bill? Boy I ought to give you a Texas Whoopin' like your mamma never saw."

"You weren't back in town yet Sir." Foggarty replied defensively.

Out of town?? Meeting an agent?? Steve thought as he mentally lined up the clues. _Opportunity: He's there every day. Means: He taught the locksmith course. If anybody can crack a safe it'd be Bill. Motive: Money. But I still can't believe he'd do it. _"You've been gone Bill?" Steve asked innocently.

"Yeah. Fitzsimmons replied after he swallowed his sixth bourbon and paused briefly before he spoke. "My youngest brother died. Cancer. You knew about that didn't you?"

Steve nodded but wasn't sure if he'd heard about the situation or not.

"I was home on leave getting things lined up for my Momma. When I came back and heard you'd gotten trashed, Heinney gave me most of your harder cases. I just finished the alien smuggling ring tonight."

Foggarty nervously shifted from one foot to another as he wondered what was going on. Tomlich was not going to arrive. An evening with Commander McGarrett would have been a pleasant experience but Foggarty did not like Lieutenant Fitzsimmons in his current state.

"The one involving the XO of the USS Hornet?" Steve asked about his former case.

"Yep. He was guilty as hell. Hard to believe a man would risk his career like that just for money don't you agree?" Fitzsimmons stated.

Steve nodded his agreement.

"Just got back from India this afternoon rounding up the last of the perps. I've got that boy Tomlich processing the paperwork tonight. Rank do hath its privileges." He commented as he grinned at Steve. "Oh, you might want to telex Herb Reikers that you're OK. He heard about you from Glen when he intercepted one of your tea shipments. Herb was almost as upset as party boy here." Bill gestured awkwardly in Foggarty's general direction. Well..." Bill stood up, gulped his seventh bourbon and dropped the glass back onto the table. "I'm going to Nelson's house. You two coming??" Bill asked, in a slightly slurred manner, as he spun around and headed for the door.

"Woah." Steve stood and quickly grabbed the back of Fitzsimmons belt as he almost tripped over Ensign Foggarty. "Bill, you sure you want to be driving tonight?"

"Ah hell." Fitzsimmons swore. "I grew up on West Texas moonshine. This here's nuthin' but water. You comin McGarrett?? Bill asked while he held onto the back of a chair.

"Only if I drive." Steve stated._ Not that I'd do a much better job but at least I'm oriented to 3 spheres....._ McGarrett thought as he retrieved their hats. _I've seen him happy before but never this smashed. _"You sure you don't want to go home instead?"

"Home! Hell no!" Fitzsimmons shouted. "You think I'm drunk or somethun'.......I'm going to Ed's game." He proclaimed loudly and staggered towards the door. "Bring party boy with us!!! He'll learn sumthun'." Bill laughed loudly as Steve guided him from walking into a barstool.

"I'm going to help Alvin out." Foggarty declined the officer's drunken invitation.

And walk in on his arrest..... maybe get accused right along with him. Steve thought. "You don't want to go back there tonight. Bill will calm down once we get to Ed's house. You know how to play poker Foggarty?"

"Sort of, Sir." The ensign admitted reluctantly.

"At the Academy we called it 'Bridge'" Steve grinned at the traditional 'deception'. "Only thing a plebe could do on a Saturday night." He placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and walked Fitzsimmons out the door. "You'll figure it out as you play along."

It had been several hours since McGarrett had left Heinriche in order to find Fitzsimmons. The card game had not been an unpleasant experience despite the surveillance of Bill. Steve had won a few hands but the big winner, much to both men's surprise, had been Ensign Foggarty. Fitzsimmons had lost badly to the submariners. Steve left Fitzsimmons, who had passed out after his loss, in Nelson's guestroom to sleep it off and dropped Ensign Foggarty of at his quarters before he returned to the Intelligence Building. McGarrett cautiously stepped out of the stairwell and made his way through the double doors. When he entered he found Heinriche sitting in his office behind a pile of folders.

"Well Sir?" McGarrett asked.

"Just typed up an arrest form for Fitzsimmons and summarized the case for him." Heinriche replied. "Your hunch about the Hornet's XO was right on target." Heinriche informed as he rubbed the embossed naval academy crest on his brass paperweight. "He acted like he couldn't wait to get out of here."

"Uh Huh." Steve replied as he dropped into the chair across from the captain. "Rank hath its privileges." At the Old Man's puzzled look he added. "That's what Bill told me. So I guess Tomlich is out too."

"You found that worm Fitzsimmons then." Heinriche asked as he surmised the conclusion of the case. "What did he have to say for himself?"

"Nothing much." Steve answered. "I left him at Lt.Cmdr Nelson's house. Tomorrow I'll have him checked out." Steve promised as he rubbed his eyes. He reluctantly took a folder from the stack of personnel files and nearly knocked the donut that was on the desk on the floor with it.

It was a few minutes after 2AM when Heinriche returned to his office with yet another stack of service records. "Oh my God what have I done..." The captain gasped in horror at the sight of his pale, sweat drenched Executive Officer slumped over sideways in his chair. He quickly tossed the records at the cabinet beside his door. Heinriche started towards the chair but stopped abruptly mid stride. _How am I going to explain this..._ "Dammit McGarrett why did you have to die in my office." He uttered under his breath._ Because you worked him to death Albert! _Heinriche shoved the momentary panic out of his mind and reassessed the situation; this time noticing the shallow respiration. "Commander?" Heinriche asked as he felt the muscles in his grasp tremble. "McGarrett!" Heinriche yelled as he shook the agent's left shoulder insistently.

As his name finally hit his consciousness Steve's eyes flew open in a brief wild unfocused 'where am I' panic. "What...Sir.." He responded groggily and blinked his eyes several times.

"That does it!" Heinriche commanded "You're going home right now."

"I'm OK Sir." Steve tried to argue as he fumbled with the zipper on his jacket. "Idiotic maintenance masterchief. It's freezing in here."

"No. It's not. Steve." Heinriche replied as he helped zip the jacket for his officer. "You're going. And that's an order. I'm not going to risk losing you because of some Judas Goat."

"We've got....." Steve replied and pulled one knee up in the chair and leaned forwards against it as he shoved Lance Corporal Tyson's file onto the floor. "U through Z to go. Like you said, this isn't an exercise....anymore."

Heinriche gathered the batch of records off the cabinet and shook his head in amazement at the man's determination. "I'm going to have to get you another medal Commander." The captain teased as he sat in his chair."

"Just what I need." Steve quipped back.

"At least eat something." Heinriche insisted as he shoved the glazed donut towards Steve who reluctantly opted for the cold coffee instead.

The words in Petty Officer Ulitzich's record suddenly made no sense at all. "This is killing you and getting us no where!" Heinriche yelled in frustration as he threw his pencil at the wall, leaned back in his chair and rubbed his tired eyes.

Steve looked up as the pencil whizzed past his right ear. _what the....._ McGarrett thought as he watched the pencil roll to a stop on the floor behind his chair. He was shocked by his over controlled superior's sudden outburst. McGarrett couldn't recall ever seeing the Captain sweat let alone blow his cool like this but at the moment he was too tired to really care. "Maybe Sir...." He proposed as he leaned back in his own chair. "Its time for offensive action."

"Offensive?" Heinriche asked in bewilderment. "How?"

"I've been thinking." McGarrett chose his words very carefully as he explained his idea. "They have gotten away with High Eye and can listen to our conversations at will. Somebody's feeling pretty proud of himself right now. If there were something really big, he'd go for it again. Only this time we'll be there to nab him."

"Gambling with classified documents could be very dangerous." Heinriche cautioned as he warmed slightly to the idea.

"I'm aware of that." Steve replied. "What do we have in the safe Sir that'd be worth the risk?"

"Son. I don't want to think about that." Heinriche answered as he stood and peered out through the venetian blinds at the darkened main office. Steve's idea was a viable option he thought. The thief probably could not resist one more job if the prize were great enough. After several moments Heinriche turned to face his junior officer and let out a deep sigh. "Next Friday the new PAC codes are arriving here en route to Japan.

Steve let out a low whistle in surprise. He knew that the operating codes for the entire 7th Fleet were changed routinely every four months. If the codes were breached, even if they knew about it from day one, there would still be a delay of at least eight weeks before another one could be implemented. He swallowed hard at the thought of how much information would be lost during that time.

"We can't let those get out." McGarrett answered quietly. "But suppose. It sounds like a crazy idea but just suppose." Steve caught himself unconsciously snapping his fingers and for the first time in months it hadn't hurt. Or if it did he was too numb to notice the pain. "We could make a fake set."

"It'd have to be a good fake." Heinriche cautioned as he decided that he liked the idea.

"Our rat's not going to sit here and authenticate it." Steve replied and sat up in his chair with a bit of renewed energy. "Get one of the old books from the storage vault downstairs. We'll copy it and change a few of the sequences. It'll work."

We're bug free now. We can't be certain they'll know." Heinriche added.

"Damn." Steve swore under his breath as he leaned forwards and ran his fingers through his hair. "I wish I could think straight."

"You're doing just fine." The captain encouraged. "In the morning, after Fitzsimmons arrives, I could make an announcement to the room that the code book will arrive. A plane ride to Tokyo would give the worm plenty of time to copy the book."

"If its him." Steve reminded. "The married officers should grumble about the trip. The single ones will jump at the chance for a long weekend in Tokyo." Steve explained and hoped that Glen had other plans for the weekend or Heinriche would be back to suspecting him again." Steve sat back in his chair. "If you ask for volunteers Sir, somebody is going to act out of character. If it's one of the enlisted men he'll have to break in tomorrow night." He tapped his finger on the arm of the chair for emphasis. "And we'll be right here waiting for him."

The captain continued to stare out the window for several minutes as he considered the plan. The risk of losing a false codebook was very small in proportion to capturing the traitor "I like it." He said as he slowly turned around. When he saw the glazed look in his XO's eyes, Heinriche realized it wasn't all that many days ago that McGarrett had been completely disoriented and yet he had just come up with a plan that would capture THE SPY. "At least you've got right and left figured out now." The older man, despite his guilt feelings, teased as he walked over and slapped his officer on the back reassuringly.

"Yeah." Steve smiled reluctantly. "Now I just walk into things.like walls. You gonna get the book Sir?"

"Yeah." Heinriche replied as he moved toward the door of his office. He opened it just enough to peer out into the outer office. When he saw that the room was empty he opened the door all the way and proceeded towards the smoked glass doors and disappeared into the hallway.

The captain returned a few minutes later after having successfully avoided the night watchman's patrol. In his hand Heinriche carried a dark navy loose-leaf binder and tossed it at his agent. "Your idea." He grinned.

McGarrett opened the book and thumbed the pages._ I can at least get out of this much. World's greatest invention has to be the secretary. _Steve decided as he recalled all the term papers he was ordered to type by the firstclassmen, in addition to his own of course, his plebe year. "But you type faster than I can right now." He grinned back at his CO. "We'll need a cover sheet with Friday's" He removed a page and while snapping the rings shut he glanced at his watch. "Tomorrow's date." He corrected. "When's your birthday Sir?"

"May 15th." Heinriche replied curiously. Why?"

"OK. Just picking random pages to alter." Steve explained as he pulled three more sheets of code out of the book. "Pages 5, 15, 12 and 30 will be the ones we change." And handed them to Heinriche. "I'll copy the rest of the book while you're doing that. Let's just hope nobody decides to inventory the vault in the next couple of days."

"I don't think it ever has been inventoried." Heinriche commented as he searched through Seaman Quinn's desk for some blank paper. "But that reminds me, now that you're officially XO, I've got to give you the combination."

"Wait till I can remember it Sir." McGarrett replied then brought up a subject that had been in the back of his mind. "I've never realized before, but security is very lax around here. We've been here every night this week and the only interruption has been Tomlich. So far the night watch has only been by once with his flashlight and that was just in the hall." Steve remarked as he played with the book. "I have no idea where the duty officer is keeping himself. Obviously anybody can get in the back door at will. When this is over, we might want to look into a few things Sir."

The captain was still hunched over Seaman Quinn's Remmington Elite manual typewriter when Steve returned from the copy room with his part of the project. Laughing to himself at Heinriche's frequent use of the word 'damn' as he stopped typing and picked up the eraser wheel yet again. Steve walked over to his desk and collapsed into his chair to watch the display. By the third expletive McGarrett was entering REM sleep. The nightmare was about to begin again.

03 June 1952: His chest felt like it was ready to explode as he ran full speed behind Glen Anderson through the North Korean forest. Behind him the dogs' barking grew louder and louder. **_They're getting closer!! _**He thought as he quickly picked himself up from tripping over a fallen branch. Surely they could smell the sweat and fear..... but there was no way he could control either at the moment. The Koreans were shouting threats and curses at the escaped prisoners. Up ahead Ron was dying, and rather quickly, judging by the amount of blood smeared on the brush as Roger dragged him through the trees. There was nothing Steve could do about that either. **IF** he got out of this alive he vowed he would always be in control..no matter what. Exhausted from the five mile run the four men paused at the edge of a wide clearing. The rabbits were hopping around in the tall grass as Glen pointed out. "And they each still have four feet." The dogs began to bark more insistently. Ron began to cough violently. "We're going! Mines or not!" Hennessey shouted as a cloud of butterflies ascended from the field. The pair made it safely to the trees on the other side. A flock of blackbirds flew out of the trees as Glen headed into the meadow. Seemingly out of nowhere a helicopter appeared over head, a man leaned out of the door with a machine gun. Suddenly Glen stopped running and stood bent over forwards. Steve ran into the field as bullets kicked up divots around him. 

"Keep your head down! They'll think we're dead!" McGarrett yelled to the imaginary Anderson as he dove off his chair onto the floor.

The outcry startled Heinriche from his erasing. When the captain looked up he did not see McGarrett sitting in the chair. Heinriche nearly tripped himself as he ran from behind the typewriter. Even in the semidarkness, he could see his officer was drenched in sweat and trembling underneath his desk.

"McGarrett!" He shouted as he tried to shake him awake.

Steve yelled something unintelligible and began to flail around in an effort to get free of whomever it was that had a hold of him.

Heinriche marveled at how strong the commander was despite his condition, as he tried to pin down his legs. _No way that can still broken! _Heinriche thought as he pinned McGarrett's right arm underneath him and gripped the left one.

Once immobilized, Steve's eyes flew open as he frantically searched for an escape from the 'Korean'. Slowly his eyes focused on the silver eagle pinned on his captor's collar. Slowly his eyes tracked upwards from the collar. After a tense moment Steve finally recognized who was that was holding him down and ceased his struggling.

"What the hell McGarrett?" Heinriche asked as he released his grip on him and sat back against the wall. "I'm getting too old to fight with you."

"Sir?" Steve groaned as he cautiously removed his arm from underneath himself.

"The other day on the roof, that wasn't an act was it?" Heinriche asked with a sigh. "What am I doing to you?"

"Sir.... you aren't..." Steve replied as he tried unsuccessfully to sit up.

"What's going on here?" The Captain asked in concern. "In the hospital they were tying your ankles down to keep the needles in and you from climbing out of bed. Anderson raised enough of a ruckus about it that they left your one arm free. Now that I know the connection between you two all of his actions make sense. They must have tied you up while you were in the prison camp."

"Up. Down. Around. You name it." Steve replied as he painfully slid up the side of his desk. "Tang's favorite thing was to Mussolini us and spin us around till we were ready to pass out. When he grabbed his rifle you never knew for sure if he was going to beat the crap out of you or shoot you with it." Once he found a semi-comfortable position he took a deep breath. "Sometimes you got to the point that it didn't matter one way or the other."

"Few times, early on, when I'd visit you'd come halfway out of it and yell something that sounded sort of Korean. You speak the language Commander?" Heinriche asked.

"Not enough to qualify as a diplomat." Steve replied. "But I know what's being said." Steve swallowed against a sudden wave of nausea. "What was it???" He asked hopefully.

"I don't know. Your friend Frank was writing that stuff down. Just now it was suki something."

"Sukeen sin??" Steve answered as he stared at Heinriche questioningly.

"That's it!" The captain exclaimed."Its not Korean Sir....." McGarrett replied flexing his right elbow.

"Then what is it?" Heinriche demanded. "Not one of our old codes."

"Its son of a bitch in Russian." Steve answered even more confused. "But that is one of my expressions...."

"Russian!" Heinriche exclaimed. "Why would you be yelling at a Korean in Russian? I didn't know you spoke that either."

"It's in my records Sir." Steve replied. "Three years of it at Annapolis. It was a new course my youngster year. I took French in high school and grew up with Italians. My father learned German in WW1. So I figured why not Russian. Why now.. I've got no idea."

"Steve, when this is over I'll leave you on the indefinite medical. Go someplace and sort this out.

Steve sighed deeply; he didn't know what to think anymore._ Oh terrific now he thinks I'm nuts. Frank thinks I'm the most stable person he knows...What in the hell's going on!_ "I don't know why it'd bother me now after all these years. The only thing I really regret about Korea is that Paul didn't make it back." He stared at the floor for a moment. "But that's life...so to speak...in our business."

"I'm serious Commander." Heinriche ordered.

"Can we at least finish this Sir. Before you pack me off to bunk with Hargrove?"

"Yeah." Heinriche smiled as he stood and then pulled Steve to his feet.


	4. Chapter 4

Oneofourownpart4 

Frank Evershall enjoyed the Hawaiian Islands almost as much as Steve McGarrett did. His MIG project had hit another standstill and therefore he could expect a delay in his return to Japan of at least another three weeks. Evershall, dressed in a tropical weight suntan uniform, was stretched out on one of the deckchairs that Steve kept on his lanai and dozed in the early morning sun. Steve could get the authorizations needed for his transfer to the satellite program, Frank told himself, and he could enjoy sunrises like this every morning. His dreams were interrupted when he heard the sound of the front door opening. He got up out of his chair and re-entered the apartment from the lanai at the same time Steve arrived home.

"What in the world?" Frank asked as he watched Steve tiredly drop his jacket on the back of an overstuffed leather chair. "You surely weren't playing poker all night...."

Steve glared at his friend as he picked up the telephone receiver and began to dial a number.

"Steve." Evershall was unfazed by the silent warning and continued his interrogation. "Steve, you look like you slept in your clothes. What gives?"

"Shut up Frank." McGarrett replied curtly as he dialed the last number and waited for the connection. "Yes. Mam." He said into the phone. "Is Corporal Lukela on today? Oh good. When he comes in would you have him call Commander McGarrett. I'm at home. He's got the number. Mahalo." And hung up the phone.

"Mahalo?" Frank laughed. "I didn't know the Corps had gone native."

"HPD. It's business Frank." Steve shot back. "Subject closed." He added as he collapsed onto the couch.

"OK. OK. I was just curious. Geez." Frank replied somewhat offended as he walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. "I'd invite you out to breakfast with Doc and I," Frank called over his shoulder as he poured a glass of juice. "But you'd probably conk out in your pancakes."

Closing the refrigerator door with his foot, Evershall carried the glass and a banana muffin into the living room. As he approached the sofa he saw that Steve had fallen asleep. He looked down at his sleeping friend with a sigh, set the items on the end table and shook his head in confusion.

He wondered what kind of 'business' his friend was up to. A knock on the half open door shifted his attention away from the lanky frame on the sofa.

"Morning Frank." Doc called out as he entered through the partly closed front door and stopped in the middle of the living room.

"Coming." Frank answered as he retrieved his jacket from the back bedroom.

Saprestien stared in confusion between McGarrett squirming in his sleep and the seemingly unconcerned attitude of his roommate.

"Business." Frank answered matter of factly as he walked up and stood next to the couch and looked at Steve.

"He looks exhausted, almost catatonic." Saprestien said with concern as he placed his hand on Steve's right wrist. "140. Good Lord. How longs he been like this?"

"Anderson! Hit the deck!" McGarrett yelled as he dove off the couch onto the floor.

"Steve!" Frank exclaimed as he knelt down and tried to shake his friend awake.

Doctor Saprestien quickly rolled his patient onto his back. He noticed the ghostly white, clammy pallor as he removed a silver penlight from his shirt pocket. "What's going on?" The physician asked as he shined the light in McGarrett's unfocused eyes.

Evershall quickly pinned Steve's flailing arms to the floor. Saprestien recovered from the attack and sat across his patient's moving legs.

"Don't know." Frank answered Doc's questioning glare. "Business was all he said. He came home this morning looking like this. He called the local cops and then dropped on the sofa."

"Nothing else?" Saprestien quizzed.

Frank shook his head.

"Are you sure?" The MD demanded.

"Yes." Frank insisted as Steve's left arm broke his grasp and he quickly regrabbed it. "No, wait." He paused as he remembered the .45 that was pointed his way. "Yesterday, he said something about images in his head. But some guy he knew had almost killed himself. I thought it was just because he was upset. You said his emotions could get weird. I didn't think....Is it important?"

"Huh....What...?" Steve mumbled as he slowly opened his eyes and focused on his surroundings. "Frankie?" He asked as he looked up at his friend with a blank stare.

"What's happening Commander?" Doc demanded as he released his hold on McGarrett's legs.

"Let go of me." Steve ordered as he tried to jerk his arms free. "I mean it Frank!"

"Commander!" Saprestien demanded.

"I'm fine." Steve insisted as he tried to slide himself up against the couch.

"I can see that." Doc countered as he watched his patient struggle to regain his equilibrium.

"Steve." Frank ordered. "Tell him what's been going on."

"I told you I'm all right." Steve retorted and gave his friend a cold glare. "Now leave me alone!"

"OK, lets go." Doc stated as he stood. "I'm going to re-admit you."

"No way!" Steve shouted as he slowly stood up and moved across the room. "I'm not going back there!"

"Steve, come off it." Frank challenged as he walked over to his friend and spun him around. "This is serious."

"No!" Steve replied sharply. "It took Heinriche and half the Joint Chief's to spring me. If I go back there, they'll never let me out."

"Steve, you're over-reacting." Frank insisted. "Give him a chance to find out what's going on."

"Back off Frank!" McGarrett barked as he leaned against the bookshelf and crossed his arms defiantly. "Damn. All this ruckus over one lousy dream."

"Dream?" Saprestien asked as he sensed a possible reason for the behavior that he had just witnessed. "That didn't look like any dream to me. Care to explain why you were yelling at Lieutenant Anderson?"

"Because he was in it." Steve retorted defensively. "Think whatever you want doctor, but there's no way I'm going back with you."

"Dream......." Doc uttered to himself as he bent down to retrieve the half-empty Mepergan bottle that had fallen off the coffee table and rolled partly under the sofa. "Just how much of this are you taking?"

"Just what the bottle says." Steve replied curiously, his defiance waning just a little. "Why...?"

"One every four to six hours." Doc read as he tossed the bottle from hand to hand. "That depends on whether its closer to four or six."

"Probably four." Frank answered before Steve could say anything in his own defense.

"With your morphine sensitivity....it's possible....."Saprestien said as he thought aloud.

"What's possible?" Steve asked as he pushed himself off the bookcase. "I'm in no mood to play games."

"Mepergan, my obstinate Commander." Saprestien said as he rose to the challenge. "One of the side effects can be hallucinations." The physician then calmly explained. "Especially if you're not eating and running yourself ragged. Which of course you are NOT doing I'm certain." He replied with a glare.

"You're kidding." Steve replied in amazement. "That's it?"

"More than likely." Saprestien commented. "After the Sodium Pentathol episode in the hospital, I've been prescribing on the high side of normal. If its not clearing out fast enough, you could be getting toxic." He placed the bottle back on the table and added. "That could explain anything from decreased appetite to hallucinations and mood swings."

Steve was taken aback by what the doctor said. That could explain the intensity of the dreams he'd been having. It was the medication he tried to assure himself, and nothing else. He slowly walked back to the couch and collapsed on it. Steve remained speechless as he sighed deeply and wearily ran his hand through his hair.

"See I told you." Frank, though his voice was filled with concern, chided his friend. "Give him a chance to help you. You've been in the spy business too long."

"OK. Compromise." Saprestien proposed. "If I promise that unless something major shows up, I won't admit you. Will you let me do another EEG and a blood workup?"

"Maybe later." McGarrett agreed as he looked up at Doc. "I've got some business to finish first."

The loud ring of the telephone cut like a knife through the tenseness of the room.

Steve quickly grabbed the receiver expecting it to be his contact from the police department. "Duke." Steve anxiously stated into the receiver. It was not the call he was expecting. "Oh Herb." He said as he paused to switch mental gears. "Hi. How's India?"

"India!" Doc exclaimed but stopped abruptly at Frank's warning glare.

"Weren't you guys going somewhere?" Steve asked with his hand over the phone.

"Business." Frank retorted as he rolled his eyes in exasperation. " Come on Doc. We'd hate to accidentally overhear Kruschev's hat size."

"Seven and a quarter" Steve grinned at the pair of officers. "He has them custom made in a little shop just off of Gorki Park." He couldn't help but smile at the friendship that had grown between the two men since his crash. He returned his attention back to the phone as Frank closed the door behind them.

"Yeah Herb, I'm fine." He continued into the phone as he put his feet up on the coffee table. "Really fine. Before I forget; Bill lost part of his notes. I know." McGarrett laughed with the man on the phone's joke about Fitzsimmons' organizational skills as he retrieved a pencil. "But there's nobody better when it comes to watching your back. Just the dates and times. He's got the rest reconstructed."

"So all that's just because of a drug?" Frank asked as he unlocked the door to the Thunderbird.

"Maybe." Doc answered quietly. There were many other explanations for the erratic behavior that could have far reaching implications.

"What do you mean maybe?" Evershall demanded. "If there's something else wrong I'll go back up there and make him come."

"You saw how paranoid he was getting." Doc pointed out. "Frank, the only way you'd have gotten him to go would have been in a straight jacket. And that would have been counter-productive."

"Yeah. I was worried when he said that the Joint Chief's had sprung him."Evershall admitted as he slid into the car.

"No." Saprestien informed as he sat on the passenger seat and closed the door. "That wasn't a hallucination. I was ordered by Washington to release him."

"What!" Evershall exclaimed.

"Frank, when the Surgeon General calls you personally with a request, you don't say no." The physician frowned and shook his head as he continued. "I don't like what this is doing to him any more than you do. But what can we do? Whatever's going on must be mighty important."

"There's got to be something!" Frank shouted as he pounded his fist on the steering wheel in frustration.

"Calm down Frank or you'll crash right along with him." Saprestien warned. "The Mepergan probably has a lot to do with it, but something's got to be fueling the fire. I didn't lie it does affect the central nervous system, but you saw how relaxed he became. Hell, he was laughing with whomever in India. But more importantly he agreed to the tests, and I WILL hold him to the bargain."

"Damn Doc." Frank laughed as he started the car. "It's taken me fifteen years to learn how to handle him and you did it in three months."

Having gone home only to shower and change clothes an exhausted Heinriche entered the front door of the Intelligence building. Private Jones jumped to attention and saluted as he always did when an officer walked in. Heinriche automatically returned the salute and scrawled his name on the log. He tossed the pen back at the counter only to watch it roll off onto his side of the floor._ Nuts!_ He swore to himself as he bent over to retrieve it. He rubbed his sore back muscles as he straightened up. This morning Captain Albert Heinriche felt all of his 58 years. As he passed the desk Private Jones noticed that the officer had forgotten his security badge.

"Captain." He stated crisply as he stepped out from behind the desk.

"What!?" Heinriche, annoyed at the delay, barked as he stopped mid-stride and turned around to face the young marine.

Jones swallowed a huge lump in his throat when he saw the intense anger in the captain's bloodshot eyes and remembered the fear he had felt after nearly flooring Commander McGarrett. The butterflies in his stomach took flight and his mouth went dry. _The commander was bad enough. Man it's not worth it. _Jones decided and quickly snapped to attention. "Have a nice day Sir." He replied.

"Thanks Private." Heinriche mumbled as he continued towards the elevator.

Bill Fitzsimmons felt like he had been run over by a tank as he entered the Intelligence Building, automatically signed his name on the log and proceeded towards the elevators. Lost in thought, he did not notice that Captain Heinriche was also waiting for the same elevator. The bourbon he had at the Officer's Club had not mixed well with the beer from Nelson's card game or the cayenne pepper coated chicken wings. Now the Bloody Mary with a raw egg 'guaranteed hang over cure' was churning its way dangerously close to the top of his stomach and the Rolaids weren't helping. He hadn't drank to forget like he had done the previous night in a long time. After being released by the North Koreans following the cease-fire, Fitzsimmons came back to find his wife living in San Diego with a zookeeper whom she had met in a bar. The divorce, difficulty re-adjusting to freedom and being stationed in Japan where all the 'locals' looked like Koreans to him had sent Fitzsimmons spiraling down a long, dark and lonely drunken tunnel. After being passed over for promotion by his commanding officer and a mutually agreeable transfer to Hawaii, he had finally gotten his life back together He was even thinking about marriage again, until last night. _Why on Earth would McGarrett's casual reference to North Korea bother me now._ Bill wondered as he waited for the elevator.

Heinriche looked up as a shadow passed by the corner of his eye. _Fitzsimmons!_ He groaned to himself and crossed his arms in a defensive manner.

The ding of the elevator bell snapped Lt Fitzsimmons out of his rumination and he stepped towards the open door.

Heinriche rudely cut in front of Bill in order to position himself in the rear of the car where he could observe the traitor without having to worry about a bayonet being shoved between his shoulderblades.

Fitzsimmons over the past several months had become accustomed to Heinriche's behavior and silently followed the captain into the car.

The elevator had just began to ascend when both men heard a loud clunk and the cage jerked to an abrupt stop.

Fitzsimmons tried to control his fear as he pushed each of the buttons. They were trapped.

Having spent over two hours trapped with Bill Fitzsimmons, the enemy agent, while they waited for the maintenance masterchief to fix the elevator motor Heinriche wanted only to be left alone in his office. Unable to make sense out of his routine paperwork Heinney set aside his pen, yawned and stretched his fatigued muscles. Intending only to rest his eyes for a moment the captain leaned back in his chair. His last conscious thought was to hope that McGarrett was home in bed. What seemed like only moments later, the captain was briefly aroused by a remote knocking sound. _Somebody slammed a door is all._ His subconscious concluded. _Go back to sleep. _His tired body eager to comply with the subliminal suggestion; Heinriche shifted slightly in his chair and resumed his snoring.

"Sir?" Anderson asked as he reluctantly shook his commanding officer. "Are you all right?"

"What!" Heinriche demanded sternly as he jolted himself upright in the chair. "Anderson." He exhaled and ran his fingers through his thinning light brown hair and tried to reorient himself. "What do you want?" He barked at the rude awakening.

"Uh..It's about the directive Sir." Glen explained as he picked up his voltmeter.

"Directive?" Heinriche asked in confusion.

"From Washington." Glen replied in a slightly keyed up manner.

Heinriche stared at Anderson blankly.

"About 'insect control'." Glen explained as he waved the voltmeter.

"Oh. THAT directive." Heinriche, annoyed that his sleep had been interrupted for a fake order, snapped. "What about it Lieutenant?"

"I think, Sir, you'd better come with me." Anderson replied as he opened the office door.

The quickest way to be rid of the possibly traitorous officer was to do whatever he wanted Heinriche thought as he followed the tall Swede into the hallway. When Anderson stopped at the service elevator the captain knew he was being taken to the roof. The memory of being stuck in the elevator with the definitely traitorous Fitzsimmons still fresh in his mind the Old Man insisted that he take the stairs instead. Glen nearly severed his tongue as he tried to keep from laughing at Heinriche's paranoia.

Fitzsimmons, wearing his trademark aviator sunglasses, was stretched out on one of the deckchairs in The Garden when the two officers walked up. The big Texan was smoking his third cigarette as he tried to calm himself. "Sir." He saluted and quickly sat up in the chair. "Hey Glen." He added.

Heinriche's suspicions were confirmed. He was livid at the sight of the turncoat seemingly enjoying himself in the sun. Had he realized that he'd forgotten a microphone up here and planted himself purposefully to overhear my reaction. Heinriche wondered. "What is going on here? Don't you have work to do Lieutenant!" Heinney barked.

"Yes Sir." Fitzsimmons replied quietly as he took a last drag on his cigarette and crushed it in the nearby plastic ashtray.

"Then I suggest that you do it." Heinriche ordered.

"Yes Sir!" Fitzsimmons said as he stood, snapped a salute and reluctantly entered the stairwell.

"Sir." Glen said as he watched the normally energy conservent Fitzsimmons enter the stairwell. "Take it easy on him. The elevator kind of shook him up."

"I don't give a damn what he's got." Heinriche snapped. "And I warned you before about questioning my actions Anderson. Now what is it you wanted to tell me?"

"I almost didn't sweep up here." Glen whispered as he pointed towards the palm tree.

Heinriche quickly glanced at the microphone and feigning surprise, pulled Glen back into the stairwell. "Are there 'termites' in here?"

"No Sir." Anderson replied. "I've been everyplace else. Except your office."

"I'll take care of that." The captain stated. "You go over everything again. Carefully." _He sure brought it to my attention quick enough. I haven't been able to find anything on him except the trips. Maybe McGarrett was right about him. OR he's a good liar. He sure was buddy buddy this morning with that snake Fitzsimmons trying to keep him off the cage walls. I was just as trapped and nobody told me to breathe deep. Anderson had the worm thinking he was swimming under a waterfall. Oh well at least it stopped the crying. They could be in it together. _"I want a report on this Lieutenant. And The Garden's off limits till further notice. Spread the word."

There were two microphones in the captain's office when he returned. _Anderson didn't have time._ Heinriche decided as he peered between the slats of the venetian blinds and saw the Texan at his desk. "FITZSIMMMONS!" He growled under his breath.

An hour later Heinriche, now awake for the day, was again trying to make sense of the weekly disposition form when Anderson burst into his office waving the voltmeter.

"Sir. Somebody wants to see you." He said as he pointed towards the rear door with the voltmeter. "I think it's your 'ant' Sir."

"I don't have an...." Heinriche started to answer as Glen re-emphasized the urgency of his need for the captain to follow him and anxiously waved towards the back of the building with the voltmeter. "Oh" He uttered as he finally caught on to the meaning of the lieutenant's cryptic homophone. "Uncle Ivan's wife. By all means let's go. The captain replied as he hesitantly followed Anderson into the rear service elevator for the short ride to the ground floor exit.

"OK Sir." Anderson demanded as he turned around and faced Heinriche. "What's going on! I swept the place earlier this morning and now I found eighteen more of those things!." He tried to control the rising pitch of his voice as he continued. "In places that I know I had already looked!"

"You found what!" Heinriche exploded as he began suddenly feel weak in the knees.

"Yes Sir." Glen replied with his frustration evident in his voice. "They're all over. Wardroom, fileroom, under the desk, even in the head.

"Under whose desk Lieutenant?" The captain demanded.

"Steve's, Sir." Glen replied as he leaned against the outside wall of the building. "Whoever put them out knows that he's not here to find it."

"Is that all Anderson?" Heinriche snapped in disappointment that it wasn't Fitzsimmons desk.

"No Sir." Glen answered disconcertingly as he pulled a plastic bag containing three tiny microphones out of his shirt pocket. "I found these in the back of my desk drawer a few minutes ago."

Heinriche's eyes went wide when he saw the devices. "These were in your drawer Lieutenant?" The captain asked skeptically.

"Yes Sir. There's no prints on them." Glen, his eyes wide in confusion, answered. "And this" He informed, removing a plastic bag containing a small screwdriver from his back pocket. "Was in my locker. I've never seen it before."

"Let me guess, you didn't find any fingerprints on it either?" Heinriche asked grimly.

"None Sir. And according to Chief, it's not Navy issue."

"So, we're possibly dealing with a civilian ."Heinriche answered with a curious look.

"I guess so Sir. Why would somebody want to frame me for this?" Glen asked.

"Maybe because you're guilty!" Heinriche barked

"What!" Glen exclaimed dumbfounded by the captain's accusation. "That's bullshit Sir!" He yelled and squared off against the captain. "I don't know what's going on but I'm starting to smell a cover up!"

What was to be gained by Glen's self incrimination Heinriche wondered at the illogical action. _Maybe McGarrett could be right about him after all._

"Lieutenant. Was your locker locked?" Heinriche interrupted

"It will be, starting tomorrow." Glen hissed. "I'm not going down for something I don't know anything about!"

"Anderson relax." Heinriche said as he put his arm around Glen's shoulder. "No one's accusing you of anything. Now, where you found the bugs, had you checked there earlier?"

"Yes Sir. I heisted some of Steve's paperclips and the needle nearly flew off." He stated as he waved the voltmeter back and forth. "The fridge in the wardroom. I was in the head. Sir....We've got a real problem."

OK Lieutenant. Get one of the bugs. Kill it and find out what you can about it. I want a report by the end of watch. Out here." The captain ordered with his hand on the doorknob. "And Anderson...there's two more in my office."

"Holy sh...Sir!" Glen exclaimed in disbelief.

"Anderson." Heinriche stated as he started to walk away. "I want this kept just between us for now. I'm going to walk around a bit out here and see if I can see anything unusual."

"Alone Sir?" Glen asked frankly. "Is that wise?"

Heinriche spun around and glared at Anderson. "Are you saying that I don't know what I'm doing Lieutenant!"

"No Sir." Glen stammered as he tried to justify himself. "But under the circumstances, walking about might be dangerous if you stumble onto something."

"Well thank you for your concern Lieutenant." He replied and softened his glare. "And I thought I was just 'Pain in the Heinney' to you. Very well, you come along then."

"Yes Sir." Glen replied as he felt his heart jump into his throat. Surprised, swallowed hard and wondered how many of his other comments the captain was aware of. " The output on these babies must be really low." Glen stated as he waved the plastic bag of microphones. "I found a signal booster behind the crest in the hallway." Anderson informed as they walked through the parking lot. "Sir one of these cars is probably a recording station."

"Good thought Lieutenant. OK. Call the shore patrol, find out whose car is whose. And all of these staff cars..I want to know who has been checking them out?"

"That's Chief Morgan's job Sir." Anderson replied.

"Lieutenant?" Heinriche, having made a decision, implored. "Have you seen Steve lately?"

"Not since we took him home the other day." Glen answered and felt a little guilty about not visiting. "I'm sure he's OK. Frank's still here. If anything had happened he would have called me."

"I'm going to take a chance." Heinriche declared as he stopped at his car and opened the driver's door. "Tell Chief to get on those cars. Then come with me. And toss that thing in here."

Glen pointed out the directions as Heinriche drove towards McGarrett's quarters. As he passed his own house curiosity overcame the captain. "How did he get an apartment here? This is the senior officer's section. He hasn't had time to request new quarters. Do you know where you are going Lieutenant?"

"Yes Sir. I ought to I've been here enough times. It's a long story Sir. When Steve filled out his housing form, some yahoo of a recruit abbreviated commander as CMD instead of CDR. The petty officer in charge misinterpreted is as ADM for admiral and assigned Steve over here." Glen explained as he gestured to turn left at the stop sign. "Steve informed them of the mistake and the whole thing got bucked around for weeks. He was staying with me when he first arrived and when we both brought home girls at the same time, Steve decided he was going to go ahead and move into his new apartment until they threw him out. By the time his housing form went through all the channels some Wagner loving captain told him since he'd already unpacked, he might just as well stay there. So that's how Steve got his palace. Worked out pretty well with Frank here and all."

Heinriche bit his tongue to keep from laughing and shook his head as he parked his car in front of the building. "I'll sweep the place." The Old Man ordered as he grabbed the voltmeter off the back seat. "You get him. If he's having one of those dreams it'd be easier on him to find you than me."

"Dreams Sir?" Glen asked as he selected the key to Steve's apartment from his key ring.

"Never mind. Just get him. Quietly."

As the officers entered the apartment they found Steve dressed in a gray US NAVY T-shirt and diving shorts sitting on his couch staring into space.

"Hey." Glen said as he shook his friend slightly as he sat down next to him. "What's up?"

"Nothing much." Steve replied suspiciously. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm not sure." Glen answered as he put his feet up on the coffee table and made himself comfortable. "Heinriche brought me over. He's checking for 'termites'."

"Huh?" Steve replied with a quizzical look.

"Nothing here." Heinriche stated as he returned to the living room from the back bedroom.

"Sir?" Steve asked as he stared up at Heinriche with a confused look on his face.

"You win Commander." The captain conceded. "I'm letting him in on our predicament."

"Change of heart Sir." McGarrett snapped,his voice edged in sarcasm.

"Steve, the bugs are back." Heinriche announced.

"What?" McGarrett gulped in surprise. "You're kidding. How??" He exhaled deeply as he looked at Heinriche. "I guess that means we can proceed then Sir."

Heinriche nodded his head in resignation

Glen looked back and forth between the two men. "Does somebody want to tell me what's going on?" He asked.

The captain waved his hand in McGarrett's general direction to indicate he should inform his friend about the situation they faced.

As Steve slowly began to explain everything that had transpired since his abrupt rooftop departure, Anderson stared at him dumbfoundedly. As the tale of background checks continued Glen's pale blue eyes began to fire. Finally the realization that HE had been investigated by the man he considered his closest friend leveled Anderson. This sent his mind reeling in a thousand different directions as he tried to make sense of what he had just heard.

"You were investigating me!" Glen exclaimed as he leaped from the couch. "Steve! After what we went through!!" He angrily grabbed hold of the front of Steve's shirt and pulled back his fist. "If you weren't screwed up I swear I'd" He hissed as he waved his fist in McGarrett's face.

"Glen I..." Steve tried to explain as he raised his left arm to block the punch he knew, by the look in Glen's eyes, WAS coming.

"Hold it!" Heinriche shouted as he grabbed Anderson's arm and pulled it up behind his back in an arm bar.

Unfazed by the physical discomfort Anderson struggled to grab at his 'friend'.

"Judas!" Glen swore. "You're not gonna get another medal off me for this one!"

Heinriche pulled up on Glen's arm until he screamed in agony but continued reaching towards the traitor on the couch. "ANDERSON!" The captain ordered as he applied a chokehold to the angry Swede's muscular neck. "Calm down!"

Glen continued to struggle but was unable to free himself from the captain's grasp. When his oxygen supply was expended Anderson ceased struggling.

Heinriche cautiously released the chokehold.

"OK" Glen whispered between gulps of air.

Heinriche released the grip on Anderson's arm.

Feeling himself momentarily free, Glen quickly dodged the captain and grabbed hold of Steve's shirt and jerked him up off of the couch. "After all that." Glen hissed in Steve's face."You could betray me like this." He felt his blood boil at the loss of his most valued friend that he now wanted to strangle. Glen shook Steve a few times and pushed him back down on the sofa. His fists balled in anger. "OK. You saved my neck once. I guess I owe you for that. But this is it! We're finished!!"

The room was spinning counterclockwise but Steve tried to ignore that. "Glen I..." He began but paused briefly as his mind reeled in the opposite direction as he tried to explain. "You never owed me anything. I happened to be in the neighborhood." He said as his eyes met Glen's acid glare. McGarrett felt his polychromatic world turn gray. "I tried to turn down the Cross. Glen you know that. Anderson please." Love, fear, desperation, and anger: all of Steve's emotions churned perilously close to the exploding point. "You're the one who insisted I take it. All I did was knock you down once. Probably a hundred times you kept me from giving up back then."

Steve swallowed hard as he leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes. Despite the warmth of the room Steve felt a deep cold that penetrated through to his core. His logic was overwhelmed by the wave of desperation that assaulted him. Communication had never been easy for McGarrett, although Annapolis had taught him presence when addressing a crowd. He had never mastered self-expression on a personal level. _How many relationships has that cost me _Steve thought as the realization that he had just lost his best friend hit him. "Glen...I didn't....you're important to me....."

"Yeah. I'm important all right!" Anderson shouted. "You get two dollars and ten cents a month for being a hero! Glad to have helped you out Ol' Buddy." Glen retorted sarcastically. "But you'll still get that after I'm gone so don't worry."

"I'm sorry Glen." Steve mumbled as he slowly stood up and walked out onto the lanai.

It was a beautiful day as the warm island sun brightened the green philodendron leaves. The sky provided a brilliant blue backdrop for the pink tinged clouds that hung over the Weather Operations Building across the street. A tiny brief metallic glint from that direction hit him in the eye but its implication was lost on McGarrett. As if sensing his depression, even Steve's potted orchid tried to glow a little more lavender. But to McGarrett everything was black and white. He had just lost his best friend for something he had not wanted to do in the first place. As he stood on the deck Steve felt hollow on the inside. When his father was killed he had gone into a protective shell. And now, twenty years later, he realized he was still alone inside it. His mother had died while he was in Korea. MaryAnn and Tom were living in LA now. His friend Paul was dead. Sure Frank was here for now but he would, unless Steve did some fast-talking, have to leave shortly. _Hennessy's clear over in Hong Kong. Ron, I only see him once a year on the layover in San Diego. _Steve thought. Now his friendship with Glen was over. "How did my life get so screwed up?" He asked the orchid. _And now I'm talking to plants....._ He leaned on the rail and stared obliviously towards the Weather Building. McGarrett realized he was completely alone and with no foreseeable escape from it in the near future. He felt eighty years old as he idly played with the herbs in the planter box as his mind wandered further into depression. _Glen's oregano.... How am I going to get up in the morning?.....Why bother?...._ Steve wondered as he plucked a hard object out of the dirt. _Kathy...._ was his last thought as his world suddenly went black.

Inside the apartment, Heinriche grabbed hold of Glen's uniform blouse and roughly shoved him backward onto the vacated couch. "Don't take it out on him Lieutenant!" The captain ordered and sternly glared at Anderson as he pinned him down to the sofa. "He's got enough crap to deal with right now. Everyone had to be checked out. Including me. That's SOP Lieutenant. You know that as well as I do. I was the one who cleared you. So if you want to hit another superior officer go right ahead. But let me assure you this one WILL press charges."

As Heinriche straightened himself he looked out the door and watched Steve as he played with his plants.

Glen slowly began to calm down as the captain explained the particulars of the case again. "If it's worth anything to you Anderson, he refused to vet you. I only promised to do it in order to keep him from having a stroke in my office. It might interest you to know, he was prepared to resign his commission over you." Heinriche informed as he removed Steve's jacket from the back and sat in the overstuffed leather chair. "Look at this logically Lieutenant. You take alot of trips around the Far East. And the best place to recruit a double agent has always been a POW camp. The evidence was there, and I wasn't sure until I saw the look on your face when the bugs reappeared that you weren't involved." With a deep sigh the captain continued. "It's a bad time for all of us Lieutenant; and the best way to get through it is to catch the bastard who is selling us out. Are you with us or not?"

Glen slowly stood and walked around the room as he tried to comprehend everything he had heard in the past half-hour. As he stared at the wall ,Glen's eyes locked on a photograph of the four ex-POWs. It was the first time they had taken Ron from the hospital for an afternoon on the rented yacht Glen remembered. An old man had volunteered to take their picture. As Glen glanced over at the patio doors he suddenly felt guilty for having doubted his friend. "Yeah. I'm in." He told Heinriche, who had walked up and stood behind him. "Lets get the SOB."

"Good man." The captain, relieved that the tension was over, replied. He smiled and slapped his officer on the back. "Now then. Can I trust the two of you in the same room?"

"Yes Sir." Glen replied and realized that he needed to apologize to his friend. "You can." This time, when he looked out the doors, he didn't see Steve on the deck. "Oh nuts. Where'd he go? Steve?" He called out curiously as he entered the kitchen. "Come on. I'm a jerk sometimes........but don't...." Glen looked down at the floor of the deck and saw Steve sprawled sideways on the teakwood. "Oh man!" He gasped in horror. "Captain get over here on the double!"

"What is it...." Heinriche asked as he stared down at the deck. "Is he in Korea again?"

"Steve?" Glen asked as he knelt down to examine his friend. Having gotten no response he turned Steve over onto his back in order to examine him. Glen felt something wet and sticky on his hand as he removed it from underneath Steve's body.

Heinriche approached to help.

"Sir!" Glen yelled as he grabbed Steve under the arms. "Get back off the deck!" He shouted as he quickly pulled Steve in behind him and adjusted him into a supine position, out of view from the sliding doors, on the terracotta tiled kitchen/diningroom floor. "Sir." He stated pointing at the growing red spot on McGarrett's gray T-shirt. "Hallucinations don't bleed. Somebody shot him!"

"Oh my God!" Heinriche uttered. "Is he....."

"No. He's still breathing." Glen informed as he watched the regular rise and fall of Steve's chest. "I think he knocked himself out when he fell." Glen gestured towards the small hematoma forming on McGarrett's left temple and stared up at the captain. "What the hell's going on?" Anderson asked bluntly.

Before Heinriche could answer Steve began to move slightly as he started to come to.

"What..." Steve murmured quietly in response to his name and attempted to sit up. Unable to maintain his balance he fell back over sideways. "Glen?" He asked in confusion as he tried to orientate himself. "This might be a dumb question but, how come we're on the floor?"

"Relax Commander, we don't know yet." Heinriche replied reassuringly.

"Because somebody just sniped you off the deck." Glen informed and gave the captain a 'yes you do know what's happening' glare.

"WHAT!" Steve groaned as he became aware of the pain in his left side and cautiously moved his hand towards the area. "I'm not..." He began to say until he felt the blood seeping between the closed fingers of his right hand and laid back on the floor. "Why...?" He whispered as the room began to spin again.

"Jealous husband?" Glen grinned as he offered to help his friend up.

"Nah." Steve retorted through clenched teeth as Anderson took hold of his left arm and pulled him up. "That's more your style."

"Doesn't look too serious. Just slight crease" Heinriche informed as he helped Glen guide Steve towards the couch. "Couple days back in the hospital won't do you any harm."

"Sir I'm in this thing." McGarrett insisted as he tried to keep his knees from buckling before he was able to reach the couch.

"Commander!" Heinriche barked as he stared at his officer. "It's over. Anderson and I'll catch him tonight."

"No way!" Steve retorted as he straightened up to face the captain only to wish he had opted for the seat on the couch instead. If the room and his stomach would not cease their gyrating, McGarrett prayed, then at least let them spin in the same direction. Cautiously he shrugged off Anderson's assistance and returned Heinriche's glare. "Somebody just tried to kill me. I intend to finish this!"


	5. Chapter 5

"No way!" Steve retorted as he straightened to his full height and faced the captain. The room and his stomach began to spin in opposite directions. He wasn't sure which was worse nausea or the actual pain behind it, both of which would have to be ignored for the moment. Cautiously he shrugged off Anderson's assistance to keep him on his feet and returned Heinriche's glare. "Captain, somebody just tried to kill me. I intend to finish this!"

The captain quickly grabbed a hold of Steve's arm as he nearly toppled over forwards onto him. "All right, McGarrett." Heinriche agreed in order to calm the man long enough to get him to the sofa.

Anderson had left to get a wet towel.

Steve gritted his teeth from the pain of his injured muscle as he sat on the sofa and slowly lifted his legs onto it. McGarrett intended to only briefly shut his eyes in order to block out the spinning room. Heinriche picked up the phone which was on the table next to McGarrett's head. Anderson, carried a towel when he returned to the living room as Heinriche concluded his conversation and hung up the receiver. _What is the old bird up to now......_ Glen wondered as he knelt next to the sofa.

The noise jarred him awake. "Won't do any good Sir." Steve whispered quietly. "He's long gone by now."

"The air search; no, probably not." The Old Man smiled reluctantly at McGarrett's determination. "But Chief's making a list of who's in the office right now."

"Who wants to kill you?" Glen asked as he carefully placed the towel underneath Steve's blood soaked T-shirt.

He grimaced at the slight pressure that Glen put on the wound. The movement sent Steve spinning into the very familiar but still terrifying kaleidoscopic vortex. He dug his fingernails into the sofa in an attempt to hang on as it tilted wildly back and forth. McGarrett knew there was nothing he could do until his brain stopped the wild ride. "You, till a few minutes ago." Steve retorted when his equilibrium finally returned and brought the world to a slamming halt.

"You know us Pisces." Anderson, relieved that his friend had forgiven him, quipped. "Very moody." In the back of his mind however, Glen wondered what the inevitable payback for this would entail. "Friends?" Glen asked as he extended his right hand.

McGarrett half-opened his eyes and reached up to grasp his friend's hand in acceptance of their continued friendship. The object from the flowerbox that he had been holding onto dropped to floor.

Anderson reached over to retrieve the metal chunk as Steve painfully shifted his position in order to see what it was.

Heinriche curiously looked over Glen's shoulder at the object. "That's a rifle slug!" He announced. "You couldn't have caught the...."

"High powered sniper rifle I'd say." Glen deduced as he weighed the object in his hand.

"Oh my God" McGarrett uttered involuntarily as he lay back on the couch and covered his eyes with his arm . "That plane...." He continued as he remembered the earlier incident. "The guy wasn't BSing us. Somebody did blow him out of the sky......."

"Commander!" Heinriche demanded. "Who wants you dead?"

If the tourist plane had not of interrupted the sniper's shot Steve would not be alive at that moment.

"I don't know Sir..." He answered weakly as the revelation overwhelmed him.

"Steve, this is serious stuff." Glen stated anxiously. "Think. Who hates your guts enough to do this. How about that guy in Seoul who rewhacked up your leg. He threatened you at the trial." As he handed the slug back to Steve's waiting hand.

"Trinnean?" Steve dismissed the possibility. "He's in Portsmouth."

"Are you sure?" Glen asked. "He was crazy enough back then to have done most anything."

"I'm sure. He's got some JAG to cry to now." Steve replied.

That Admiral you left Tokyo over." Glen offered. "You ruined his career."

"No." Steve said and swallowed as a hot jagged bolt of pain coursed up and down his side.

Heinriche couldn't help but stare at the tiny beads of sweat, which were forming on McGarrett's already pale skin. _Hurry up Chief._ The captain thought to himself as he prayed for the phone to ring.

The shrill ring of the phone ripped through the tension filled room like a knife. Steve was startled and jerked partway to a sitting position. He immediately regretted the movement as he fell back onto the sofa. Above his head, Glen and Heinriche both grabbed for the phone.

"Lt. Anderson." Glen spoke into the receiver he had wrested away from Heinriche. "Oh. Kathy. Hi." He acknowledged as Steve carefully shook his head. "Not right now." Glen evaded. "He's got a doctor's appointment. No. It's one of those all day kind. Me?" Glen was trapped by her question until his gaze fell on the slug sitting on the coffee table. "Tending to the plants. Sure, I'll tell him. Bye." As Glen hung up the phone he glared at Heinriche.

As Steve lay in the sofa images of Kathy danced through his head. He longed to tell her everything that was going on, yet knew, like most everything else about his covert life, he couldn't tell her anything. Would she even believe some of the stories he wanted to tell her? Most of them if he had not of lived through the event himself he would not have believed either. A frown grew on his face. _Dear God when will this mess be over._ McGarrett wondered hopelessly. A little more than a month had passed since the last time they were together. _forty-one days but who's counting. _He thought bitterly. He recalled the afternoon outside the hospital and the sight of her walking through the hedge with Seaman Watkins. A tiny breeze had blown through her hair as she had turned to wave. He remembered the soft silky feeling of her long brown hair as it swept across his chest and the sensation sent him back to the first night he had stayed overnight at her condo. The sweet scent of her jasmine perfume flooded his mind. Kathy was certainly not a culinary genius. Steve laughed at sight of her swearing at the lobster pot as boiling water ran down the side of it.

Glen and Heinriche both stared curiously at Steve as his expression grew soft..

The lobster had surveyed them from the counter as they made love on the kitchen floor. Neither of them regretted missing the evening movie for which he had ostensibly been invited over to watch. More of their clothing had been left in the living room. The journey into the bedroom had been a passionate one as she had walked backward enticing him to follow. That night, Steve recalled, had been more physically intense than any other he had ever experienced. In fact, he had prided himself that he had been in much better shape then than when he was a nineteen-year-old midshipman and getting regular backseat PT drills. What time he and Kathy had actually fallen asleep was still an uncertainty, but they must have because when he awoke she was asleep under his left arm and every muscle in his body was exhausted. Steve had turned to move her off of him and glanced at the clock beside the bed. He knew he would have to rush in order to make it on time for watch and quickly headed for the shower.

While he was underneath the pulsating water basking in the glow she had slipped quietly into the room and pulled back the curtain a tiny bit. "Hey Sailor." She smiled coyly. "You really are hot stuff." And replaced the curtain. Less than five seconds later a bucket of ice cold water came over the top of the shower bar. "To cool you off!" She had giggled. Once he had recovered from the tactile assault Steve wanted revenge and whipped back the curtain intent on chasing her. There were ice cubes still remaining on the bottom of the tub, and as luck would have it Steve McGarrett stepped on one of them and slid backwards onto his rear. Kathy had of course laughed at him that incensed him further. He began to plot his revenge as the water pelted down from above. Her sudden shriek snapped his attention from the plot and towards the blood flowing from his right temple. The top of his left foot was turning purple from hitting his great toe on the faucet. It had been a very tiny cut but for obvious reasons he would not let her put ice on either of the injuries. It had not been fun, for the next week, explaining how he gotten the black eye and a limp on a 'surveillance mission'.

After she had quit laughing Kathy had helped him out of the tub and 'tended to the wounds' on the bathroom rug. That led them on a merry chase through the condo and the discovery that it was possible to make love in every room of the house, except for the hall closet that Steve refused to enter. She had forced him to make up for that by doing it twice on the deck. Steve woke up at six-thirty that evening and realized he had forgotten to go to work. Fortunately, for Steve, Heinriche had been in Washington and he had been acting XO so no one except Glen knew where he had been that day. Now their relationship existed only on the phone. Frustrated at the constraints on his life McGarrett slung the rifle slug against the living room wall and abruptly sat up on the couch.

Heinriche stared at his agent's even paler coloring.

"Why didn't you just talk to her Steve?" Glen asked.

McGarrett bit his bottom lip against the searing pain running down his side and leaned back against the cool leather of the sofa. "She worries too much." He replied quietly as the darkness began to close in around him.

"It's over Commander." Heinriche stated consolingly. "Anderson and I'll catch him tonight. Relax."

"Relax hell!" Steve snapped as he jerked himself back to consciousness. "I intend to finish this!"

"Steve, don't be ridiculous!" Heinriche barked. _Even now, I'd hate to be on hate wrong side of that look _Heinriche thought as he glared back at the semi-focused steel blue eyes. The captain knew McGarrett could be exasperatingly stubborn at times but this decision was in the man's best interest. "The two of us will manage just fine."

Glen saw the hard look in his friend's glassy eyes and knew the level determination behind it. "Sir, let him stay." Anderson added. "There's no slug in him. Few stitches and he'll be OK."

"No." Heinriche stated as he began to pace the floor.

"Captain." Glen argued. "If everything that you told me went on is true, then he's been running solely on adrenaline. I want this bastard as badly as you Sir, probably more considering my 'involvement'. But he needs it."

Steve did his best to stay awake while he listened to the ongoing debate.

"This collar belongs to him." Anderson informed as he blocked Heinriche's path. "I won't take it away. Sir it's either both of us or neither of us."

When Steve heard the ultimatum he bolted upright on the sofa and watched the confrontation intently. _Crazy Swede's going to get himself reprimanded over this._ Heinriche's expression turned to stone and matched the one Glen wore. Steve rarely saw that side of Anderson. _Now that's friendship. _He concluded.

Heinriche noticed that Steve had sat up and was watching their conversation. His gaze shifted between the two men and lingered on Steve as he thought about Anderson's statement. _Both of them can be bull-headed at times. This is definitely one of those times. _He reasoned. _I'm the one who got him into this mess in the first place. I suppose its the least I can do to let him finish....._ Another glance at McGarrett served only to increase his misgivings. _Or at least get as far as he can....._ "One of you is bad enough." He stated finally and with a shake of his head continued. "But together you two are impossible." After a slight wink at Steve he turned and faced Glen. "You know he was probably diving again when he got hit."

"So?" Anderson dismissed the captain's comment. "His screwed up head saved his backside. He'll make this Sir. Believe me."

"Forget the search." Heinriche decided abruptly after he looked again at McGarrett. "We're going now!"

"Sir." Anderson, glad to finally be doing something, acknowledged as he headed towards the rear of the apartment. "I'll get his black gear."

Outside a Marine helicopter sliced through the air with a thundering roar past the open glass sliding door. It hovered briefly just off the lanai. "Anderson! Hit the deck!" Steve yelled as he dove underneath the coffee table. This was the first time that Heinriche had seen what proceeded McGarrett's waking up on the floor. The captain could do nothing but stare in disbelief.

"What in the..." Anderson began when he entered the room and saw Steve huddled under the table.

Heinriche shook his head. He could not believe what he had just witnessed from the stablest man he knew. The captain wondered if this would pass with time or was something far more ominous looming on the horizon.

"Steve." Glen ordered as he tossed the clothes on the sofa and grabbed Steve's arms and pulled his friend to his feet. "You gotta quit this."

"I want those doctors to take a good look at you." The captain ordered as he grabbed the black clothes off the couch.

"You aren't shoving me out of this." Steve implored resolutely.

"Against my better judgment, I said you could go." Heinriche said reassuringly despite his misgivings, but was even more impressed by the man's tenacity. "Anderson'll be with you. Would you quit worrying. I won't back you off."

Heinriche paced the waiting area outside the ER as Glen sat on the hard plastic bench with his feet on the table and stared through the open door at his friend in the exam room.

Glen thought back to the days after North Korea, Steve had seemed to deal with the experience quite well, whereas he had faltered on numerous occasions. Now, years later Steve was going to crack, it didn't seem fair. But if any one could cling to his own sanity, it would be Steve Glen decided. Anderson was contemplating ways to help his friend when Heinriche's booming voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Where's that sawed off excuse of a physician?" Heinriche fumed. "I should demand another doctor right now." The Old Man stated as he turned towards the reception desk.

"Relax Sir. " Glen replied. "He's on his way. Man doesn't sit around all day just in case you might want him."

"Anderson." Heinriche snapped as he glared a hole into the lieutenant.

"Steve's gonna be OK Sir." Glen said as he tried to calm his superior officer. "Doc knows him. A new guy wouldn't." _And slap him in here where he belongs. _He thought.

Glen couldn't help but feel sorry for Steve and the way he had pushed himself but Heinriche's attitude did not help the situation.

Nodding briefly the captain reluctantly sat on the bench next to the deceptively relaxed lieutenant to wait.

Glen stared through the still open door at his friend who lay agitatedly on the exam table. _Oh God, here we go again. He's gonna blow his chance at this. _"The rails are up Captain, he's not going anyplace." Anderson added and hoped that he'd covered his own fear enough to keep Steve on the case.

"Anderson?" Heinriche asked a short while later. "What happened in North Korea?"

"A lot of things." Glen answered evasively. "He'll be all right."

"Lieutenant please." The captain implored.

"Didn't he ever tell you about Lang Bak?" Glen replied as his hopes of avoiding the topic diminished. "It's all in our files."

"Just bits and pieces." Heinriche replied. "It was like pulling teeth to get it out of him. You and another man were in pretty bad shape. Stole a motorcycle and ran South. Lieutenant I want to know the whole story."

"But Sir..." Glen groaned as he looked at the captain and saw that his effort to avoid the subject had failed miserably. He dropped his feet to the floor and sat up on the bench. "It was six years ago Sir....." He protested futily. Glen could deal with the fleeting memories that happened almost on a daily basis but The Old Man wanted him to go into detail about that fateful day. The images in his subconscious dragged him back in time. He was so deep in thought that Heinriche's calling of his name startled him.

"Lieutenant." Heinriche ordered. "I don't want to hear any buts about this. What ever's going on here, I want to understand it so I don't want you sparing me any of the details."

"Sir." Anderson sighed resignedly. "You don't know the half of it. I used to run marathons. A mile now and I'm done for. Steve gets Chief Sysmanski to let him run with me for the fitness eval every year. Even with him yelling at me most of the way, I still barely make it under the nine minute mark." Glen glanced in the exam room at his friend. "I'm overdue now." He admitted reluctantly. _Chief hasn't said anything. God only knows when Steve'll be running again....._ "Ron's missing most of his digestive system. Hennessey, well he's always been lucky."

"That he did say." Heinriche grinned. The captain could tell by Glen's reluctance that he really did not want to discuss this but he could see no other way of obtaining the desired information. Heinriche was not good at interpersonal communication but tried his best to make the situation easier.

"The night before we took off." Glen continued. "Steve overheard the guards joking Tang was going to kill us."

"He told me he only understood some Korean." Heinriche said a little confused by the statement.

"A little? Is that what he told you?" Glen replied with a small laugh. "Captain, he reads and writes poetry in it. Hell he even fights Korean."

"Come again?" Heinriche questioned the discrepancy between what the two men were leading him to believe.

"Come by the base gym some night." Glen offered. "He's been teaching for a couple years. Bunch of the SP's are learning. Foggarty's just started. Jenkins was about to meet Master Park before....." His voice trailed off as he recalled the days immediately after Steve's crash.

Heinriche was taken aback by this latest revelation into the abilities of Commander Steven J. McGarrett USN. The information was enlightening but did not explain why the man dove underneath furniture seemingly without warning. "What are we talking about here?" Heinriche asked intrigued.

"Tae Kyon. Basically it's Korean karate. Steve rescued most of Master Park's family from Up North and spent the rest of the war studying with him."

"Wow." He responded dumbfounded. "I never knew."

"He's an amazing old man." Glen continued. "Came to see Steve right after we got back. Started teaching me the breathing patterns while Steve was out of it. Captain, he probably saved my life."

Anxious to hear more, Heinriche sat forwards on the edge of the bench.

"They'd had Ron in the tank that day." Glen began hesitantly. "We were trying to keep him alert. I hardly slept a night in that hole. 'Bout all you can do is talk. When Steve heard they intended to kill us, well, that kind of left out the diplomatic option. We waited by the door and rushed the guards. One of them shot Ron. We ran blind for the grass and crawled through there till we got to the woods and could stand up and run. They chased us with everything they had. Dogs, cycles even a helicopter." Glen shifted uneasily on the bench as he continued under the captain's intense gaze.

"That's where he's at." Heinriche stated as he sat back on the bench. _So that's what's going on. But still he could see as well as I that it was an American chopper this time. _The captain was uncertain now of his decision to keep quiet about hallucinations. _He could beach himself at anytime. My silence could end up getting the man killed._ Heinriche shivered at that thought.

"Yeah. I know." Glen replied apprehensively. "I had nightmares about that day for a long while. Last I talked to Ron he still was. Steve and Roger, never seemed to bother them." _Or so I thought._

"Continue Lieutenant." Heinriche asked as he glanced into the exam room.

"We came to a field. Steve said it didn't look mined. He has a sense about those kind of things." Glen paused but continued at Heinriche's insistence. "It was Rogers turn with Ron. They ran across to the trees. I started across and.......OH GOD!!" Glen suddenly cried out. He swallowed hard and sat back on the bench rubbing his chest.

"Anderson?" The captain asked in concern. Glen's coloring was almost as pale as McGarrett's had been earlier. Tiny sweat beads began to appear on Glen's face. Could the man be having a heart attack? Heinriche wondered though it seemed unlikely.

Glen continued to stare into nothingness holding his chest.

"Anderson!" The captain shouted startling Glen back to reality. "What's wrong?" Heinriche demanded.

"I'm OK." Glen replied at length as he leaned over forwards with his head between his knees.

Heinriche glanced quickly into the room and saw that Saprestien had just finished his exam. "Anderson?" He inquired and gently placed his arm across Glen's shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing Sir." Glen swallowed and sat upright on the bench. "I'm alright." He took a deep breath and continued with the story. "A chopper came up over the trees where we were. I couldn't move. My chest was on fire. Next thing I knew I was on the ground and Steve was on top of me. IT came low and strafed us. I tried to move.......Steve belted me in the kidney and told me to stay still and they'd think we were dead. Dirt was kicking up all around us. Roger started yelling and I guess they saw him because it took off towards the trees. We ran till we finally caught up with Ron and Roger in an old shack. I couldn't breathe anymore and Steve wasn't running anywhere. We sat there for what seemed like forever. Hennessey had his hands full keeping us all alive."

Heinriche stared in bewilderment at the lieutenant. He knew the two men had to have been terrified. The captain's mind slipped back to 1942. He had been a lieutenant then and stationed on Midway Island. The air raid warning siren was as vivid in Heinriche's mind now as it had been fifteen years earlier when he had leaped into a foxhole milliseconds ahead of a diving Japanese Zero. The young Marine whose hole he had jumped into had not been as fortunate. The captain could still feel the stickiness of the man's blood as he shoved what was left of him off of the anti-aircraft gun.

A rushing corpsman rammed an oxygen tank into the wall. The noise startled Heinriche. The images in his mind were so intense that he was unsure of which reality was correct. He stared at the tan coloring of his pants, no clue there. A quick check of his body told him he wasn't wearing a flak jacket but...Finally he rubbed the eagle on his collar and exhaled in relief. That scenario had come up entirely too quick for the liking of Albert Heinriche, but it HAD come up. He was now absolutely certain of his decision. Nothing would be said about the hallucinations as long as he was in charge. _Unless he beaches himself in front of an admiral. _The captain shuttered at the thought.

"I got hit in the lung." Glen explained. "Few inches up and I'd have been dead. Broke his leg doing it but if Steve hadn't of tackled me......"

Heinriche glanced into the room at McGarrett. He was even more impressed with both officers.

"He didn't tell you that part did he?" Glen laughed as he looked in at his friend arguing with the doctor. "You never noticed the way he walks?"

"No." Heinriche admitted reluctantly.

"Well unless you really know you can't tell anymore. When he's tired I notice it. Today its really obvious."

"What is?" Heinriche asked as he decided that he really knew nothing at all about any of the men in his command. _McGarrett does though, right down to their kids names. Perhaps I should take the time....._

"There's a six inch piece of metal in his left leg. Bullet shattered the bone and lodged in his shinbone. Running tore up his knee. Quite a mess from what I understood at the time."

"How come I never heard any of this." Heinriche asked, but in the back of his mind he knew the answer. _Because you never asked Albert that's why._

"I think it's classified someplace. Neither of us talk about it. Ron's in San Diego. Steve said he saw Roger in Hong Kong. We're here. The only four men to ever escape Lang Bak alive. Its just one of those things Sir."

Heinriche looked at his watch and realized almost two hours had passed since the air search. He was anxious to know the whereabouts of Fitzsimmons. Ordering Glen to bring McGarrett with him to the office at 1800 the captain, after a last glance in the room at his agent still arguing with Doc, left to find Chief Morgan.

Glen had returned from the receptionist's desk and saw that Saprestien was not in the room. "They done with you yet?" He chided as he dropped the black clothes on the end of the table.

"Yeah." Steve replied as he swallowed hard. "Fifteen stitches and an antibiotic. Don't ask which hurt worse." He winced as he carefully sat on the edge of the cart and waited for the room to stop its familiar spin. "They wanted to keep me." He stated as he gingerly zipped the black fatigue pants. "But I'm not staying."

"You better be careful man." Anderson teased when he saw how loosely the pants fit. "Scrawny as you are those are gonna fall off."

"Good thing too." Steve retorted as loosely buckled the web belt. "I might be able to stand them tonight."

"Any new developments?" McGarrett asked as he cautiously stuck his right arm in the sleeve and struggled into the black turtleneck.

Nah. Just Heinriche calling to check on you. Again. And ask me if I knew where Bill was." Anderson informed as he sat on the stool beside the exam table. "He in on this with you?"

Damn not again. Steve thought as he slid his foot into his boot. "In a manner of speaking. He's the old fart's prime suspect."

"Bill Fitzsimmons!" Glen exclaimed and couldn't help but laugh at the idea. "That's ludicrous."

"Tell me about it." Steve said disgustedly as he leaned over to tie his boots. The room suddenly started to move backend over front as Steve gripped the edge of the table tightly. "You mind?" He asked, when the wave of nausea passed and gestured towards the boots.

"Sure." Glen replied as he wheeled the stool forwards with his feet. "You really don't have to do this ya know."

"Hey Glen......" Steve asked as he watched his friend's movements. "Back in the field. Did you get a good look at that helicopter?"

"Too good." Anderson retorted. "It was on top of us, how could I miss it."

"Was there something weird about it?" Steve asked with a curious tone in his voice.

"Weird?" Glen answered with raised eyebrows. "The whole damn war was weird. They wanted to turn us into Swiss cheese. Steve, all I remember is you tackling me. Why?" He looked up from the last lace. "And a bolo punch in the back." Glen stated as he chopped his friend hard on the left leg causing him to jump.

"Yeah, well you never could keep your head below deck." Steve retorted and slowly shook his head. "Something's weird...."

Glen sat up straight and gave his friend a sympathetic look.

"I don't know exactly." Steve said as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Just, something about that day's been bugging me lately."

"Steve it's no big deal." Glen reassured. "I had nightmares for almost a year after that. It's just finally caught up with you is all."

Steve stared mutely at the floor.

Oh geez don't crash now Anderson thought sadly. "You'll get through it Steve, I did. Hell's bells we're lucky to even still be here. Maybe if you go see Ron or Hennessey." He suggested.

"That's just it." Steve tried to explain. "I hadn't thought about Tang in almost a year probably. I've got enough to deal with in the present to worry about the past. This whole thing started that day in the wardroom. Why?" He asked as he slid off the edge of the table. "Glen I swear to you that doesn't bother me. It was a moment in my life. Its over."

Glen quickly grasped McGarrett's shoulders and guided him to his feet. "Steve the brain is a funny thing." He said consolingly. "Something got crosswired from the crash. China's not that different from North Korea you know. Maybe it brought up a bunch of unresolved crap from back then. Why not take Jenkins to meet Master Park like you planned?" He added. "If anybody can help you get your head on straight its him."

Glen has always been honest. Steve thought._ Oh God! Maybe I am cracking up._ "Yeah maybe." Steve answered quietly.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed in from the tile floored corridor. Both men looked up as Chief Morgan rushed into the room.

"Commander?" The NCO asked breathlessly. "You all right Sir?"

"Yeah. Chief." Steve replied as he looked at the ripped blood soaked T-shirt he had been wearing and tossed it in the trashcan. "I'm fine." _I'm about two seconds from being classified as squirrel food, but fine_ What'd you find out about the cars?"

"Well..." The man replied as he pulled up his sagging pants. "There's the one I gave to you. Ensign Barker is borrowing one till his wife has the baby. I know I'm not supposed to, Sir, but Seaman Engel's got one unofficially while his is in the shop. If that's a problem Sir I....."

"Nah." Glen dismissed before Steve could say anything. "Let the kid have it. But we've got more cars than that."

"Thank you." The Chief grinned. "I traded three of ours with Sysmanski for jeeps."

"Jeeps?" McGarrett was surprised. "We've got those."

"Only because I traded with the Shore Patrol for them Commander." The chief explained. "We are not technically a combat unit so we are not entitled to any jeeps. But we need them to get up to the gunnery range."

"Not a combat unit." Steve laughed. "Then how come I just got a Star?"

"Welcome to the Navy Sir." Morgan saluted. "They are not a part of our BEL (basic equipment list). The SP needed cars for their drug operations. If there's some kind of inspection coming up I can make a few calls and get all our assigned stuff back for the duration." He added.

"No. Nothing as severe as that Chief." Glen stated.

"Good." The masterchief exhaled in relief. "Lousy GAO bean counters are a pain in the butt that won't go away. Those fools had to actually work under the rules they make it'd be a whole new ballgame around here,"

"Then all the cars are accounted for, right?" Steve asked glumly.

"Yep. The rest are right where I parked them."

Glen stared at the floor in disappointment and rubbed his face wearily. Their only lead had just dried up.

"But here's the kicker." The Chief added. "There's an extra one in the lot."

"I knew it!" Glen shouted and banged the table with excitement.

Steve stopped pacing the room and leaned, with his arms crossed, against the edge of the exam table. "Tell us about that one Chief."

"Well Steve it's either a '50 or '51, hard to tell." Morgan informed. "Kind of beat up but somebody gave it a good wax job. Standard issue stuff, but the serial number doesn't appear in any of my records. 'Less the motorpool made a mistake and parked it in the wrong lot. Old as it is probably about ready for auction anyway." He added.

"Do all the cars go through the motorpool?" Steve asked as a theory began to form in his head.

"Just the ones that have a problem. Engel does the gas and oil." The chief replied as he looked at Steve curiously.

Glen remembered the small electronics screwdriver that was in his locker. "Civilians can get stuff on auction?"

"Heck yes Sir." The portly chief laughed. "No sailor'd be dumb enough to buy a wreck the government didn't want anymore."

"Well lets hope this one had a problem." Steve said as he stood away from the table. "Call the motorpool. Better yet, go over there yourself and see if you can find where that car came from."

Master Chief Petty Officer Floyd Morgan had first met McGarrett in Seoul the autumn of 1952 when the upstart young lieutenant had limped into his section carrying a metal pipe in his hand and wanted to know what it was. _He turned that broken piece of artillery into a Murder one conviction_ the chief recalled. _That kind of tenacity, I wonder what he can do with a whole car._ Even after twenty years in the service 'Need To Know' was still frustrated him. "Aye aye Sir." He saluted. "Is this a Priority 1?"

"No." Steve grinned as he slapped the chief on the shoulder. "It's a half."

Morgan stared at him quizzically.

"Worse than a one Chief." McGarrett answered looking at his watch. "When you find out something call Glen on channel 3. And whatever you do, don't go near the office for any reason. OK?"

Morgan left the room shaking his head. First Lieutenant Anderson had him chasing cars. Then Heinriche wanted to know who was in the office. By the look in McGarrett's eyes Morgan knew he had just put something together. This was one of the times Chief really wished he knew what was going on.

"Uh Steve." Glen asked as he started to follow his friend out of the room. "You just sent Chief on a merry chase. How are we going to get back?"

"You're going to call the Shore Patrol." Steve grinned. "We're going to need their stake out van for tonight anyway."

It had taken some effort to get the van away from Sysmanski. The Chief had all but demanded a drop of blood from Glen. He had handed over the keys with an express warning that it had better be returned in one piece. Once they had possession of the dingy truck Glen dropped Steve off at the office and drove into town for a pizza and large container of coffee. It was going to be a long night Glen surmised as he parked the faded gray service van on the side street where he could easily see both the main and rear entrance to the Intelligence building. He crawled into the back of the vehicle and watched as one by one his co-workers left the building.

Time seemed to drag by as Anderson sat in the cramped van. The sun finally descended to the horizon and the sky came alive with the colors of sunset. Even though his view was partially blocked by buildings Glen could tell that this was one of those spectacular Hawaiian sunsets that he enjoyed so much. One by one the streetlights came on partially illuminating the front entrance. There was a light above the rear door that provided enough light that Glen could see part of the alley.

In side the building Steve and Heinriche waited impatiently until the last person had left the office and the floor was empty. They positioned themselves on the floor, behind a desk, in the darkest corner of the outer office.

Steve stretched out his legs out in front of himself, leaned back against the filing cabinet and wiped his arm across his forehead. It was cold in the room yet he was sweating, Steve dearly hoped that this would end soon.

Even in the darkened room Heinriche could see the stark contrast between the man's pasty coloring and his dark clothes. "You sure you're Ok?" He asked at length.

"Yes Sir." Steve replied as he pulled a stick of gum out of his pocket. "Just thirsty."

"You've all ready had three cups of coffee tonight." The captain replied in amazement as he stood up. "This thing goes down you'll probably be in the head."

Steve shifted his position in an attempt to get more comfortable on the hard floor and grinned slightly at the captain's comment.

When Heinriche returned from the wardroom with a pitcher of water and two styrofoam cups he observed that the tiny sweat beads on McGarrett's skin had returned. _It's not THAT hot in here._ He thought as he sat back down.

"You sure you're alright?" He asked as Steve gulped a second glass of water.

"Yes Sir." McGarrett sighed and leaned back against the cool metal cabinet.

"Uh huh." Heinriche replied. "Sure you are. I meant what I said before. When this is over take a month or so off. God knows you deserve it.

"I've had almost the whole year off already." Steve grinned.

"I mean it." Heinriche ordered. "Go someplace nice. You are still seeing that lady lawyer?" At Steve's smile he continued. "Good. Take her with you. I've always liked the Med this time of year. Ever been to Crete?"

"I'm going to Naples in December." Steve replied.

"Well where ever you go. Have a nice time." Heinriche said in an authoritative tone of voice.

"Yes Sir." Steve answered. "So who wanted the Tokyo run this morning?"

"McAdams was interested." Heinriche replied. "But your puppy Foggarty practically did handsprings trying to get my attention.

"Well he's new." Steve admitted. "Probably would be his first time on the Ginza."

"Who knows." Heinriche retorted. "Might make a man out of him."

"Or scare him half to death." Steve added with a chuckle. "Probably displace most of the water in the bathhouse."

The image of the chubby ensign in a hot tub surrounded by geishas was enough to cause both men to laugh for a moment.

That worm Fitzsimmons didn't even look up." Heinriche spat.

"Bill likes Japan about as much as I do." Steve replied sarcastically.

"So can we move on Fitzsimmons yet?" Heinriche asked. "I was trapped in the elevator with him this morning. Almost killed me to be civil to him." The captain added disgustedly. "Get me some thing. Anything. And I'll have his bars."

"There's nothing to get. Sir." Steve replied. "I really don't think its him."

"He's on both lists." Heinriche reminded. " And nobody knows where he has been all afternoon."

"Yeah I know." Steve sighed in exasperation. "Call it intuition, gut instinct or what ever, but Bill's not involved in this."

"Oh come on McGarrett!" Heinriche snapped. "Your instinct is as off as your coordination. He's guilty as hell!!!"

"Look." Steve barked as he glared at Heinriche. "You're the one who got me into this! You want to blow our secrecy by busting Fitzsimmons, fine, go right ahead. I'll take my medical leave right now and sit on the beach until Washington sends out your replacement."

"Steve calm down!" The captain ordered. "I know you hate this situation, but not half as much as I do....the thought of one of my own men....." He paused not only to take a breath but also to bring himself to admit that one of the men in his command had indeed sold out his country. "That worm was in Korea too, maybe your letting some kind of POW comradery cloud your judgement."

"That's bull Sir, just plain bull!" Steve shouted as he sat up and glared daggers at Heinriche.

Heinriche had never been so certain of anyone's guilt as he was of Fitzsimmons at this moment. McGarrett was just as convinced of his innocence it seemed as he glared back.

Steve saw that he was getting nowhere with Heinriche and sighed deeply as he sat back against the cabinet.

"Let's look at this logically."Heinriche said as he also settled back against the cabinet. " What do you have on him. Those football pools for example. He likes to gamble."

"Sir, if I recall correctly." Steve retorted. "You were the one who picked Penn State, over Navy nonetheless. One could wonder about YOUR loyalty there, Sir. And I won the whole thing. So what does that say?"

"That you know football. And I'm a realist." Heinriche went on as he tried to make his point. "And Fitzsimmons is a lousy gambler. All the more reason."

"Captain." Steve exhaled in frustration and ticked off on his fingers the results of his investigation. "I checked him out eight ways from Sunday. According to HPD none of the bookies in the Territory have heard of him. The phone company records show that all his long distance calls are either to his mother in Texas or a brother in Oklahoma. His local calls are either to an insurance agency downtown his girlfriend runs, or to take out joints. Every call he has made from the office has been for business or to make ticket reservations. His life insurance policy has not been borrowed against. He has no bank accounts in any of the areas he lived in or has relatives in. He only has one account here and the balance in that sucks. Basically he spends what he makes. There is no crime in that. I watched him play poker the other night at Ed Nelson's house, and he enjoyed himself even though he lost like he always does. But when he was done he was done. Serious gamblers don't know when to quit. There is no evidence that Bill has ever been near a loanshark."

With the last comment Heinriche felt like the wind had left his sails. He hated to admit it, but Steve's information made sense. A sharp crack from the walkie-talkie sitting on the floor next to the water pitcher ended the debate.

Heads up." The staticy voice of Lt. Anderson informed. "A truck just pulled up out back."

Heinriche reached over Steve and grabbed the radio off the floor. "Roger." He replied and clicked the send button twice in acknowledgement.

McGarrett pulled Dean's Colt out of the back of his belt and released the safety." Here we go!"

"Steve." Heinriche admonished. "Promise me you won't fire that weapon unless I'm behind you. I don't want another Purple Heart."

"Aye aye Sir." Steve smiled reluctantly and pulled the slide back to load the chamber.

From Glen's vantagepoint he watched as a small framed man with a toolbox in his hand enter open the rear door. From what he could see the man appeared to be dressed in Navy-issue dungarees and a dark jacket. "He's in the stairwell." Anderson relayed into the radio.

Both men knew the intruder was not going anyplace but their floor. Moments later the office door opened and the man that Glen had described walked in.

Heinriche ducked back down behind the desk as the man set his toolbox down and pulled a flashlight from his jacket pocket and panned the outer office. Steve and Heinriche hugged the floor when the beam swept their direction.

Satisfied that he was alone, the man picked up his toolbox and headed towards the captain's office. He had been in and out of the section so many times, the man told himself with a satisfied grin. Prior to this occasion he had contented himself with photographing items from files locked in the various desks. This would be his first attempt at cracking the safe in Heinriche's office. _I know how. This will be easy. _The man told himself. _Just concentrate. Get in and get out._ The man couldn't understand why he would all of a sudden have such an ominous sense of foreboding. The shiver in his spine was so intense that he almost ran because of it. _Relax. _He told himself as he took off his jacket and tossed it on Seaman Quinn's desk. The man uttered a tiny laugh at his perceived paranoia opened the office door.

"Who's that?" Heinriche asked in a whisper and clicked the radio button three times to alert Anderson.

"I don't know......"Steve answered as his world started to tilt. "Sir I think I'm going..." He squinted his eyes shut and grabbed his head with his free hand.

Heinriche looked over at McGarrett as he started to slump towards the floor. "Steve! Not now!" He ordered in the loudest whisper as he dared and grabbed the man by the shoulders. "Hold it together another five minutes."

After what seemed like hours to Heinriche, Steve nodded his response. The two men carefully crawled towards the office.

Crouching behind Rameriz's desk, which was as close to the door to the captain's office as they dared get. The pair watched as Spy retrieved a stethoscope and a screwdriver from the box. He hooked it in his ears and placed the bell on the safe door and began to tap with the screwdriver against the metal to locate the tumbler mechanism. Once it was located he moved the stethoscope to the location and began to slowly turn the dial.

Steve shook the last of the dizziness from his head and peered over the desk. When his eyes focused he couldn't believe whom it was standing in front of the safe. "The maintenance master chief!" Steve whispered as he grabbed Heinriche's forearm.

Heinriche jerked his head and stared at McGarrett. He was about to reprimand him for grabbing a superior officer when he saw the look in his eyes.

"They were having problems at the lab....." He spoke in almost a babble. "He was in the wardroom.......the air conditioning......."

Heinriche stared in amazement as McGarrett solidified his babbling explanation.

It was like a gunshot had gone off inside his head as everything became crystal clear. Steve was not losing his sanity, his brain had been trying to tell him all along who the spy was but he had been too wrapped up worrying about Korea to see it. "That's how he gets access....breaks it himself, then waits till we call......puts out his bugs in the evening with a cleaning cart. Who ever pays attention to janitors and repairmen. They blend into the background. All that time and effort. The background checks.....we were spinning our wheels!"

With a smirk of satisfaction Spy removed the falsified codebook from the safe and slipped it inside his shirt and carefully closed the safe door. With a silent laugh he replaced the stethoscope and screwdriver, slammed the toolbox lid closed and retrieved his flashlight.

"HOLD IT!" The two officers shouted as they came around the desk with their guns pointing towards the Spy. 


	6. Chapter 6

**  
  
The Spy stared in disbelief at the two gun barrels pointed towards his head. How could such a perfect plan have gone so suddenly wrong? **

McGarrett glanced at the nametape on the man's shirt. "Freeze Garvin!" He yelled.

Spy stood perfectly still.

Heinriche released the safety on his weapon. At the click the man carefully placed the toolbox on a desk and held up his hands.

"Against the wall!" Heinriche ordered as he shoved the intruder towards the outer wall of his office.

Garvin quickly dropped his arms turned and swung the flashlight he had in his hand at Heinriche. Although the captain tried to move out of the way he was not fast enough to avoid being clipped on the head by the heavy metal light. Garvin saw Heinriche stagger backward from the blow and capitalizing on the moment shoved Heinriche into Steve's line of fire.

Steve stepped aside to avoid the collision with his captain and raised his left arm to block the oncoming flashlight.

Captain Heinriche fell to the floor on top of the radio as his world went quickly dark.

Seizing an opportunity Spy grabbed hold of the weapon and pulled up on McGarrett's injured right arm. When his knees reflexively buckled from the pain Spy wrenched the weapon away and shoved him shoulder first into Seaman Quinn's desk. Steve slumped to the floor and laid there in a dazed agony as the thief ran away from him.

Steel desk chairs crashed to the floor in the far corner of the room. A loud Russian expletive aroused Steve from his agony. Seconds after his brain had registered the foreign word McGarrett's gun skidded across the floor and came to a stop just three feet from his hand. Steve did not take the time to contemplate his sudden good fortune. He snatched the gun off the floor and grabbed hold of the side of Seaman Quinn's desk and staggered to his feet. After regaining his balance he set off in search of the noise.

The Spy (AKA Peter William Garvin) had kicked over the water pitcher and slid on its liquid contents. He sucked in his breath at the pain and swore at his own clumsiness as he rolled himself to a sitting position and held his throbbing right ankle. Garvin's sole motivation was to escape. He grabbed hold of the front of the desk next to him and cautiously stood up. Garvin breathed a sigh of relief when he discovered that he could still bear weight on the joint. He removed a .45 automatic from inside his belt and cautiously made his way towards the exit.

Steve saw a shadow moving across the wall towards him. The arm of the shadow straightened. Steve dove behind a desk as a bullet whistled past his ear and with a metallic thud imbedded itself in the filing cabinet behind him.

Garvin was in a panic as ran for the door.

Outside in the van Glen heard over his staticy radio what sounded like a gunshot. The rear doors flew open as he charged from the back of the van with his gun in one hand and the radio in the other. "Steve!" He yelled into the radio. "You OK?! Steve!! Captain!"

Steve peered over the top of the desk and saw a blur of motion heading towards the door. He fired blindly in the direction of the fleeing spy. The bullet missed its intended target and smoked glass flew in all directions as the door shattered.

Stunned and bleeding from several deep lacerations Garvin froze for an instant. McGarrett fired again. Spy clutched his right flank as he crashed through the remaining glass door.

Steve ran back into the office and snatched the radio out from underneath Heinriche. "Glen. Out front!" He yelled into the walkie-talkie and chased after the fleeing spy.

McGarrett carefully stepped through the doorway in order to avoid cutting himself on the shards of glass that had remained attached to the doorframe. He held his pistol at the ready in front of him and scanned both directions.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as his heart began to pound and adrenaline surged through his body. _Where the hell's the night patrol! _He wondered in disgust.

Out of the corner of his left eye Steve saw a dark shadow pass across the polished brass NAVAL INTELLIGENCE letters bolted to the wall behind him. He turned abruptly toward the movement. He held his breath as he swept the hallway with his eyes; his hand gripped the gun tighter. Steve knew the man had to be somewhere in the hall but he saw no movement. He exhaled in resolution and stepped cautiously in the direction of the elevator. He had not taken two steps when he heard the retort of Garvin's gun, and at the same instant a slug richoeted off of the metal letter N beside his head. The sound reverberated like a ship's bell in his head as he as dropped to the floor behind the security desk. A second shot hit the heavy solid brass crest and sent the top portion of it crashing onto the desktop above Steve's head. The clang of the heavy metal object as it impacted the steel desktop above Steve's head tore through his head as he struggled to maintain control over his equilibrium.

A few feet away a steel door slammed shut. Garvin was sure he had the situation now under control as he started down the stairs. With each step he began to feel weaker.

Steve slowly crawled out from underneath the desk and grabbed hold of the bottom of the brass letter I and pulled himself to his feet. He couldn't help but sigh in relief when he saw the piece of escutcheon laying on the desk and the deep dent it had left in the desktop. Steve said a silent prayer of thanksgiving that it was not his head that had been dented. He then turned towards the fire stairs.

Garvin leaned against the steps and held his bleeding side as he tried to catch his breath. He knew that he had to get out of the building. _Keep moving!_ He told himself but his body seemed unwilling to cooperate. Blood had soaked his clothes and began to seep from between his fingers and drip onto the step.

As Steve approached the stairwell he hesitated for a moment. _Up or down _He thought to himself as he stood beside the metal door. He knew that for some strange reason criminals always ran up, but Garvin was a trained spy and therefore likely to take the best route which was down. Steve decided if the situation were reversed he would take the quick escape over high-ground advantage. He switched the gun to his left hand and wiped the sweat from his now empty palm onto his shirt. In one movement he jerked open the door and stepped into the landing. At that moment he was vulnerable from above. Steve saw a puddle of blood on the first step below his position. A second later he saw his quarry against the railing.

Garvin looked up in horror at the sound of the door being opened. His pursuer was nearly on top of him. That thought translated itself into a reflexive action as he raised his gun hand and fired another round. That bullet impacted itself harmlessly into a cement step. Steve fired down at the target then flattened himself against the wall in anticipation of returned fire. When there was no reply he looked at the landing again and the man was gone. Steve charged towards the second floor landing. When Steve stepped out onto the stairs, Garvin quickly popped up from below and fired at him. McGarrett ducked and tried to dodge the bullet but his foot slipped in the puddle of slick blood and he was sent skidding out of control towards the second floor landing.

Captain Heinriche had started to regain consciousness when McGarrett rolled him over to retrieve the radio. He slowly stood and rubbed the back of his throbbing head."Oh my God!" He gasped when he saw the condition of his surroundings. He thought that he had heard gunfire coming from somewhere and in his dazed state thought maybe he should find out where that was coming from. Heinriche staggered along the trail of devastation that led to the hallway in search of McGarrett. When he saw the shattered glass door the captain's adrenal glands kicked into action. The charge of adrenaline burned away the last of the fog in Heinriche's mind. The Old Man entered the stairwell just in time to see Steve crash to a halt on the recently vacated landing.

"McGarrett! No!!" Heinriche yelled as the words echoed both inside and outside of his head.

Steve landed hard on the concrete landing. The black cloud had started closing in on Steve's consciousness when he heard his name. Steve quickly sat up at the sound of his name bouncing off the walls around him. He carefully moved each limb through range of motion and sighed in relief that nothing appeared broken. Slowly he pulled himself up by the handrail and resumed the chase.

Heinriche charged down the stairwell only to follow a few seconds behind his agent as they descended the rest of the stairs.

Glen had almost reached the rear entrance when he heard Steve's message. Relieved that his friend was alive Anderson sprinted to the front entrance of the Intelligence Building.

Garvin burst out of the stairwell like a wounded rhino and collided with a marine.

Private Jones, unaware of the goings on, had just returned from warming his leftover Chinese take-out on the radar unit located on the roof of the building beside 'The Garden' where his partners were resting. He chuckled to himself about the 'unauthorized use of Navy electronics' which his sergeant had only recently shown him.

Jones did not like the situation he found himself in. His partners spent the greater part of watch asleep on the roof while he tried as best he could to patrol his squad's section of the building. The first night it had happened he had sought out his sergeant to complain. After a lengthy search he had found the NCO on the roof with the rest of the group. Jones, bootcamp still a fresh horror in his mind, knew well the things a sergeant could get away with doing in the name of 'discipline' to a young private. That night when Jones returned to his post he had never felt so alone in his life. He had not been able to sleep the entire day as he debated what to do. Breaking the chain of command held serious repercussions and most of the time it was the one who 'squealed' that paid the price. Private Jones decided that doing nothing and saving his skin was the best course of action. As he sat at the desk staring at the recruiting poster on the wall Jones remembered the oath he had taken to defend against all enemies foreign and domestic, would this count as a domestic enemy he wondered. Well the evidence was there Jones had told himself as he got up from his chair. By that time he was certain that Sergeant Olvera and the rest of them would be passed out on the roof, Jones went off in search of the duty officer intent on taking the man with him to 'The Garden' and plead his case. It had taken almost an hour for him to locate the man. Jones was devastated when he found the Lieutenant sacked out on a couch in an out of the way conference room. Jones had spent another sleepless day agonizing over his situation. The next course of action, he decided, would be to find an officer who would help him. Commander McGarrett had gone out of his way to be nice to him that first day and still spoke to him in the mornings. The private had not seen McGarrett in several days so surely he would be back from leave soon; Jones would wait until then. Private Jones had been set in his resolve to speak to McGarrett no matter the outcome. When he returned to the building that night everyone was talking about the rumor that Commander McGarrett had been captured by a Chinese pilot. _"It's fate" _He had told himself. "You getting screwed at every turn. Give it up." So Jones decided that he would just do his job and go along until he could find someone to help him out of his situation.

Private Jones, still thinking about his predicament, stepped out of the elevator at the same instant Garvin came out of the stairwell. Shocked by the presence of an armed intruder Jones dropped his lo mein to the floor and dove behind a huge potted ficus.

Garvin was just as surprised by the young marine. This close to freedom he would not be deterred, Garvin fired two quick rounds at Jones and continued his run for the door.

The ceramic tub containing the tree shattered on impact sending dirt and shards into the air. Jones right arm burned like fire. Dirt and leaves from the destroyed tree covered him. At that moment two thoughts went through the eighteen year old's mind. ' I want my mother' and ' get the son of a bitch'. Mother came in second as he instinctively reached over with his left hand and drew his weapon.

Out of the corner of his eye Jones saw movement from behind himself, he quickly rolled to a seated position and prepared to fire. At the last instant he recognized his target. _Commander McGarrett! Shit!!_ the guard thought as he released his finger off the trigger. _Heinriche! Hells bells I almost killed my commanding officers._ Disturbed by that thought Jones carefully came to his feet and holding his bleeding upper arm followed behind the officers.

Garvin plowed blindly past the sign in desk and out the double glass doors to freedom.

Glen was on the third step when the panicked bleeding intruder bolted through the doors and collided with him. Out of reflex he grabbed hold of the front of the man's shirt and rolled with him back down to the sidewalk. Glen felt the edge of the steps scrape against his back as they slid to a halt at the base of the stairs. The radio sailed from Glen's grasp, bounced off the edge of the steps and fell in pieces into the hibiscus hedge beside the entrance. Both guns clattered to the sidewalk.

Glen was momentarily dazed by the impact with Garvin. The spy saw this as an opportunity and punched him in the solar plexus. Glen gasped for breath and put his hands around the man's neck and began to choke him.

Garvin shifted his weight to ease the pressure on his neck and brought his knee up and drove it into the officer's groin

Glen recoiled from the impact, released his grip on the man and pulled his knees in close and rolled onto his side.

Garvin tried to stagger to his feet but was grabbed by his belt and pulled back down by the Lieutenant who then straddled him. He could feel the warm blood seeping from his right side.

A forceful blow to his head sent stars shooting past Garvin's field of vision. The waves of nausea were coming closer together. The hands were closing off his windpipe. It was becoming difficult to breathe and blackness began to close in around him. The game was up and Garvin knew it. He relaxed in defeat.

Anderson felt the body in his grasp go limp and released the chokehold. Glen moved aside in order to flip the man onto his stomach.

Spy saw the gun laying less than an inch from his grasp. With Herculean effort Garvin shoved Glen off balance, rolled to his left side and seized the gun. He staggered to his feet and charged towards the road.

Anderson landed in a supine position on the grass at the edge of the sidewalk but quickly recovered and came to a low blocking stance.

In his compromised state Garvin did not see the opening to his right and charged ahead.

Glen dove towards the fleeing man, tackled him around the ankles and threw him to the ground.

Anderson saw the pistol in the man's hand pinned the arm to the ground.

Garvin's swung awkwardly at his opponent's head with his free arm

Glen ducked back from the flying fist and loosened his grip on the arm for an instant.

Garvin used that advantage to slip out from underneath the larger mans body.

Anderson recovered and slammed the arm back down.

Garvin grabbed him by the hair and pulled him down with him.

A grappling match ensued as the two men rolled around on the grass trying to gain a superior position.

Garvin strained to keep his grip on the weapon as he wrestled with Anderson. Glen felt the barrel touch his chest and shoved the arm aside. Garvin tried to pull loose and the gun discharged.

Glen screamed out in agony as the hot lead pierced his upper thigh and grabbed the affected area with both hands.

Spy pulled himself out from underneath the now huddled Anderson and started to flee. His right foot became entangled between Glen's arms and leg and could not be wrenched free. Garvin grabbed Glen by the shoulders and bashed his head against the bottom cement step.

Anderson's arms relaxed with unconsciousness enough that Garvin could release his pinned leg.

With renewed energy Spy took off across the grass to wards freedom.

Steve was nearly out of breath from the run/slide down the three flights of stairs and was focused only on capturing the spy as he leaped over Glen's inert body.

A fresh tropical breeze blew through LTJG McAdams hair as he sped across the base in his new car. Santo and Johnny blared from the radio as he rounded the corner. Seemingly out of nowhere a sailor suddenly loomed in his headlights. The tires squealed as he jammed on the brakes and watched the man ran past his car. When his eyes returned to the road he realized in horror that there was a second dark figure in his path. McAdams applied more pressure to the brake pedal, but it was too late

Heinriche had just ran out of the building when he saw the car barreling towards the charging man. "McGarrett!" Heinriche yelled futility as he watched in horror as Steve fly over the hood of the car and fall hard onto the asphalt beside the front tire as McAdams brought the vehicle to an abrupt stop.

Garvin turned when he heard the screech of tires. He stood frozen for several moments in disbelief at the good fortune which just taken away his pursuer. In spite of the pain in his flank Spy laughed as he made his way across the grass towards his quarters.

Spy was getting away! Private Jones, who had exited the building a second behind the captain, was unsure of what was going on but he carefully aimed with his left hand and fired off two rounds at the fleeing man.

Heinriche continued, despite his pounding head, to chase the intruder.

McAdams, totally confused by the situation in which he found himself, reacted instinctively and bolted from his car to chase the fleeing man.

Garvin stumbled as he felt a bullet hit his shoulder a few seconds before McAdams caught up with him and tackled him to the ground. Exhaustion and pain from his wounds along with blood loss had taken their toll. The man offered no resistance as McAdams pinned him to the ground.

"Who the hell are you?" Heinriche asked as the marine came along beside him.

"Private Lemeul Andrew Jones, Sir." The young man answered as he tried to salute in spite of his wounded arm. "What's going on?"

"Lieutenant!" Heinriche yelled to McAdams as he ignored Jones. "Bring him over here!" and sprinted towards the far side of the car where McGarrett had fallen.

The captain stared in horror at the unmoving black figure on the pavement. "Commander?" Heinriche asked with trepidation as he knelt on the ground. He cautiously pulled back the rolled neckline and placed his fingers on the side of the pale neck. H was relieved to find that there was still a pulse. "McGarrett, can you hear me?"

It was warm in the black tunnel and Steve did not want to leave. Faintly he heard his name being called. Who was calling him? And from where? He felt his left leg tingle. _Funny the things you notice in here_ His mind thought. _How did my shirt get wet?_

"Steve?!" Heinriche called again as he gently shook his agent. "Say something"

Something His mind giggled.

"That's an order!"

Nobody orders me in my space As his fuzzy consciousness struggled to form a terse reply to the unwelcome intrusion Steve gradually became aware of the throbbing pain in his right arm.

McAdams roughly pulled the spy to his feet and dragged him back towards the group. Under the streetlight he could see the man's pale coloring. He forcefully shoved the man against the hood of the car, removed the handcuffs that were dangling from his rearview mirror and applied them tightly to the moaning man's wrists. Once the prisoner was secured the Lieutenant finally too a good look at him. He saw that blood had soaked the entire right side of the man's clothing. "He's been shot!" McAdams announced in bewilderment.

"Yeah. What about it." Heinriche spat as he continued to shake the dark form on the pavement.

Quit shaking me! Steve's mind yelled. More signals from the body. His left side was on fire. Blood was soaking his shirt. _Ah hell I've been shot._ He swore at the realization._ Again!_ Slowly he tried to remember what had transpired. As the fog slowly lifted Steve remembered feeling the sutures rip as he slid down the stairs. _Chasing....Chasing what..._

"Is everybody OK Sir?" Jones asked as he tried to understand why the two officers had chased the man he now recognized as one of the building maintenance crew.

Heinriche stared up at the young man as he cautiously rolled Steve over onto his back. "I hope so." He silently prayed.

McGarrett felt himself spinning into disequalibrium again. Had he moved himself or had someone moved him? He wondered. A sharp grating pain in his chest chased away the last cloud as his mind snapped abruptly back to pain filled consciousness. He briefly stared up at the crowd silhouetted in the car's headlights then rolled back onto his left side and pulled his legs up into fetal position.

"Commander?" Heinriche asked with his hand on Steve's back. He didn't want to ask the obvious question.

"I think I just broke the last rib." Steve choked in reply. "And lost the bastard"

"We've got him." The captain reassured.

"Great!" Steve uttered and had to grit his teeth at the agonizing pain caused by the outburst. "Sir." He swallowed. "I didn't know you could run that fast."

"Neither did I." Heinriche chuckled as he sat on the ground next to his officer.

"What's the janitor done?" Jones wondered aloud as he walked over to where the officers had gathered.

"Oh my God!' McAdams gasped when he realized whom it was he'd run over. "Commander I'm so sorry." and collapsed onto the bumper of the car and held his head in his hands. "I didn't see you..."

Garvin looked around and saw that everyone was concerned with McGarrett's condition. He saw this as another opportunity to get away and slowly got up off the car and began to sneak away into the night.

Jones saw that their prisoner was making moves to get away, ran between the prone McGarrett and Heinriche grabbed Garvin and dragged him back to the group. "And just where do you think you're goin'?" The private barked as he slammed Spy face first onto the trunk.

"What happened?" Steve asked as he cautiously rolled over onto his back.

"Junior here caught him after he ran over you." Heinriche replied as he leaned over forwards with his head between his knees and rubbed the egg-sized lump that had formed near the base of his skull.

"Commander I swear I didn't see you." McAdams profusely apologized.

"Forget it." Steve replied flatly as he tried to sit up.

McAdams saw that that McGarrett was having difficulty as he tried to right himself, so he reached down and carefully pulled him to a seated position against the car and returned to the bumper.

"Thanks Lieutenant." Steve stated as he ran his fingers through his hair and tried to remain awake. It had been a long night and his energy level was hovering on empty. "Oh my God!" A sudden expression of horror appeared on his face as he tried to get up. "Glen!"

"Relax." Heinriche ordered as he gently pushed McGarrett back against the tire. "I'll get him.

The captain cautiously came to his feet and walked back toward the building to retrieve Glen.

McAdams had finally calmed himself down enough to realize he had left the engine running. He got up from the bumper, walked back to the driver's door and reached over the steering wheel and turned it off. He also noticed that McGarrett wasn't staying down as ordered. With his help Steve managed to stand up long enough to sit on the hood of the car.

Heinriche picked up Glen off the sidewalk and took the man's arm around his neck grabbed him around the waist and half carried Glen across the lawn to the car sitting crossways in the street although he nearly collapsed from the physical stress. When they arrived at the group Anderson let go of Heinriche and sat himself on the hood of the car. "You look like hell." He half smiled and bit his lip as a swift pain shot through his thigh.

McGarrett turned slightly and in the dim light could see his friends blood stained pants and soiled shirt. "I could say the same about you." Steve retorted weakly.

"Yeah." Anderson admitted as he glanced down at his leg. "Guess I won't be dancing for a while. He touched the back of his head and felt something warm. When he brought his hand back and looked at it, his stomach did a 180-degree turn at the sight. Anderson hated the sight of blood, especially his own. "That him?" He asked as he swallowed back the pizza as it rose in his throat and pointed towards the bleeding man on the trunk.

"Jerry got him." Steve replied with a nod of his head that he instantly regretted. He cradled his head with his left hand and closed his eyes in an effort to shut out the oncoming vertigo.

Heinriche leaned against the side of the car and rubbed the back of his head. His stomach turned inside out in undulating waves of nausea from the concussion.

McAdams surveyed the scene. There was a man whom he didn't know dying on his trunk, his mentor was in nearly the same condition, Glen was starting to pass out and Heinriche did not look very well either. "Would someone please tell me what I got?" McAdams pleaded.

"Lieutenant...." Steve remembered the Russian cuss word the spy had yelled in the office. "You just captured a Soviet agent."

McAdams' eyes grew large and his mouth dropped open in shock. "A what?" He gulped.

"He's been bugging our office and stealing secrets." Steve started to explain.

The young lieutenant stood speechless for a moment as he digested what he had just heard. "Then you weren't really losing it..." He blurted out. "This weeks been...."

"Part of an internal investigation." Steve finished the sentence although he was still not entirely certain of his sanity.

Private Jones was even more surprised to learn what he inadvertently become involved in. "That what you were doin crawlin around under stuff." Jones hissed at Garvin."Huh?" He jerked the semiconscious man's head up by the hair. "You sellin your country?" There was no response. "Bastard." Jones spat. He was so repulsed by the thought he slammed the head back down onto the car and wiped his hands on the front of his pants.

Jerry McAdam's mouth gaped open in shock at what he had just heard. Slowly he began to piece together the series of events that led up to the current situation. "I thought something was up." He blurted out. "Stuff on your desk would move around."

Despite his general agony Steve had to laugh at the revelation.

"That pen you've got. With the girl's name on it." McAdams continued to ramble. "The day you left I threw it in your desk drawer so it wouldn't get lost. Next day it was back out."

Glen still held the back of his head as he pushed himself up on the hood of the car with his free arm. The wound in his thigh was bleeding more profusely so he carefully removed the belt from his pants and wrapped it around his leg just above the hole and pulled it tight. He winced as pain seared through him. He closed his eyes, laid back against the windshield and tried very hard to keep from hyperventilating.

Steve's world began to spin again as he too leaned back against the windshield. "We've got a smart boy here Sir." He gestured weakly in the direction of McAdams. "We're going to have to encourage him."

"First we're going to have to reward him." Heinriche replied as he turned to face the junior lieutenant. "Son, how would you like a long weekend in Tokyo?"

"Yes Sir!" Jerry replied with a weak grin. He was still shaken by the thought that he had nearly killed a fellow officer. "The code book's for real then?"

"You u mean this book?" Heinriche said as he stepped to the rear of the car and removed the fake book from inside Garvin's shirt. "Not this one." And laughed as he looked at the front of the book then tossed it casually onto the backseat of the car. "Be in my office next Friday at zero six hundred, and bring your toothbrush."

As Heinriche started back towards the group he felt his knees go weak and grabbed the side of the car. "Guess we better start for the hospital." He half whispered. "You think we'll all fit in this car of yours my boy?"

McAdams looked around at the two officers bleeding on his hood and the prisoner dying on his trunk. "Don't know Sir." He replied as he wondered to himself how he would get the bloodstains off the leather seats."

Glen gritted his teeth at the movement as he pulled a set of keys from his front pants pocket. "The van's around the corner." He informed and weakly tossed the keys in the general direction of McAdams who awkwardly caught them.

"You're sure he's a Russian then McGarrett?" Heinriche questioned.

"He cusses like one Sir." Steve replied weakly.

"So do you." Heinriche said with a wink of his eye. "Well, if he is it'll come out in the interrogation."

Glen looked over at Steve who had fallen asleep on the car and back at Heinriche. "He's ours too captain."

"Don't worry Anderson." Heinriche reassured as he leaned against the car and rubbed the back of his throbbing head. "You'll both get a crack at him. Junior too, be good practice for him. We don't get too many POW's during peacetime." Heinriche knew that he had to inform Admiral Winters who in turn would have to awaken somebody in Washington. Just how high the news would travel Heinriche was uncertain.

At the word POW Steve snapped awake and looked around for the prisoner. A deep anger overrode his pain as McGarrett slid off the hood and staggered around to the rear of the vehicle. He was oblivious of Private Jones sitting on the curb. He had seen that face before. With each step his anger towards the prisoner rose and by the time he got to the man was at its peak. When he saw the semiconscious man sprawled across the trunk the long repressed memory came to vivid light in McGarrett's head. Steve pulled Spy off the hood by the back of the shirt, punched him in the face and let the body drop to the ground.

Garvin hit the pavement face first. Although his hands still cuffed behind his back he tried to roll up to a seated position.

Steve did not want him to recover so quickly, so he spun around and kicked the man back down. "That's for Ron, Comrade." He spat.

McGarrett's blue eyes fired with a deep hate as he jerked the man to his knees by the hair.

"You remember this game." He growled. Reaching into the belt of his pants Steve whipped out his pistol and shoved it in to Garvin's mouth. "Don't you!" He sneered and released the safety.

McGarrett's face twisted in anger as he his finger twitched on the trigger.

"Steve! No!!" Heinriche shouted as he ran towards McGarrett.

Garvin's eyes went wide with fear as Steve advanced the barrel down his throat. Unable to swallow around the mass of metal in his mouth Spy made a gurgling sound as he stared helplessly into his tormentor's darkened eyes.

"What's gotten into you!" The captain yelled as he tried to grab for the gun. "Let him go!"

Steve was not to be kept from his revenge as he jerked Garvin's hair harder. Heinriche's plea to release the prisoner went unnoticed.

Private Jones stared in horror at the unfolding events.

After several tense minutes Steve broke his glare at the prisoner and glanced at Heinriche. The horrified look on the captain's face told him that he might just have crossed the line in treatment of a prisoner. Slowly his eyes returned to their glassy blue and he pulled the gun back out of the quivering man's mouth.

Heinriche sighed in relief as the weapon cleared the man's mouth.

The captain's relaxation was to be short lived.

Steve was determined to finish what he had started. He kicked the spy in the chest spun and kicked his head back down to the pavement. "And that's for me." He said angrily then turned back to the front of the car. "Glen, I want you to meet someone!"

Anderson hung onto the car as he slowly limped towards his friend, grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him back against the car. "Buddy, what's gotten into you?" He exclaimed as he glared at his friend. "You flippin out on us or what!"

Steve was content to sit on the trunk as the adrenaline rush diminished. "Remember I told you there was something weird about that helicopter?"

"Yeah." Glen replied as he nodded his head. "What about it?"

"It wasn't NK's that were in it." Steve revealed. "That chopper was full of Russians." His energy expended, he slumped on the trunk. "I must have recognized him somehow in the wardroom when he was messing with the vents. But until now I didn't put it all together." McGarrett looked up and was amazed that his friend was still upright. "He's the bastard who shot you."

Glen raised his eyebrows in suspicion. "You sure?" He asked

"Yep." Steve replied as he sat up. "He was the one hanging out the door firing at us when I tackled you."

Anger overcame reason in Lieutenant Anderson as he vividly remembered that day in the meadow. His chest burned as intensely now as it had that afternoon. His left fist balled in fury as he let go of the side of the car and grabbed the prisoner by the shirt and punched him repeatedly until Spy finally collapsed unconscious onto the ground.

Steve slid off the rear of the car and reached down to pull Garvin up for his less mobile friend.

Jerry McAdams, unaware of the keys dangling from his right hand, stood transfixed as the scene before him played out.

Glen seized this opportunity and leaned back against the automobile with his hands and front kicked the spy in the chest with his good leg.

The force of Anderson's kick sent Steve along with Garvin to the ground.

Appalled by the behavior he had just witnessed by his men Heinriche angrily grabbed Glen and shoved him against the car and motioned for Steve to remain where he was on the pavement.

"Hold it! Both of you!" He shouted. "You're going to kill him!"

Both men began to protest as Heinriche knelt next to the prisoner and checked for a pulse. Relieved that the man was still alive he slowly stood and shifted his glare between both men.

"What has gotten into you?" The captain demanded. "I can't believe the behavior I just witnessed from two supposedly professional men!"

Heinriche focused his glare at Steve. "You started it Commander, I want an explanation! And I want it now!"

McAdams looked down at McGarrett as he lay on his left side splinting his ribcage. His face reflected the amount of pain he was in. Carefully he helped him up to a seated position against the tire and out of the reach of Garvin.

Steve was to exhausted to answer the question but tried unsuccessfully to kick the prisoner just one more time.

Seeing the aggressive move towards the unconscious prisoner Heinriche grabbed Steve by the shoulders and slammed him onto the car next to Glen. "Now that I've gotten your attention." He leaned over so that he was inches from McGarrett's nose and shouted. "Would you tell me what's going on!"

"Sir." Steve whispered as he began to slide over sideways on the trunk. "He's a Russian mole."

Heinriche glared disbellievingly at the two agents.

"Steve?" Glen asked in concern as his friend fell onto him. "You OK?"

"No." He whispered and looked up helplessly at Heinriche as he continued to rant. "Sir...I think you knocked something loose."

"That doesn't give you the right to kill him." Heinriche fumed as he jerked Steve upright again. "This isn't a war-zone. What in the hell is the matter with you!"

Captain." Glen shouted as he grabbed Heinriche by the back of the belt when he moved towards Steve again. " Let him alone. "He was at Lang Bak."

"ANDERSON! ENOUGH OUT OF YOU!" Heinriche screamed. "GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME! NOW MISTER!!"

"Sir." Glen continued as he attempted to explain. "He was in the helicopter. That's the son of a bitch who strafed us." And pointed at the prisoner that lay unconscious on the ground.

Heinriche was taken aback by what he heard. He looked down at the Russian and over at Steve laying on the car. "You're sure about this?" He asked gently.

"That's the bastard." Steve nodded assuredly. "I got a good look at him twice six years ago. Probably who tried to blow me off my deck this afternoon. The muscles in his shoulder twitched and he bit his lip in response to the pain. "Rifles are his thing...."

Heinriche slowly exhaled the breath he held at that moment; the ramifications of McGarrett's recollection were mindboggling. _A double agent is one thing. Even a Russian thief._ His gaze went beyond his men as he stared off into he night _But a mole put in place inside a POW camp. Most likely the sailor is dead. But what if he's still being held in Peking or Pyongyang...or now Moscow. _"This has opened a can of political worms! Christ even the president will be woke up because of this." The captain ran his fingers over the lump on the back of his head. Far worse headaches, he knew, were on their way "You know what this means don't you?"

"Yes Sir." Steve replied ruefully. "Every POW who went through there will have to be vetted."

"The Brits and the Aussies too." Glen added.

"What!" Heinriche shouted loud enough to make his head throb from the outburst. "McGarrett you just created an international incident!"

"I didn't create it." Steve replied in defense of himself. "I just remembered it."

"Oh boy." Heinriche sighed and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Just how much of the UN is involved here?"

"Well." Glen answered as he held his leg. "There was that Italian major with the attitude. A few Turks. And your French friend...."

"Claude?" Steve added with a brief smile at the memory. "He was from Luxembourg. But I saw him and his family after the war..."

Heinriche looked at the two men and shook his head in bewilderment.

. "Sir." Steve began as he cautiously sat up on the trunk. "Sir. I intend to tell Ron and Roger about this. You can bust me back to lieutenant commander if you want; I haven't ordered the braids yet anyway." Splinting his rib with is right arm he did his best to glare at the captain. "You want to vet them. Fine. They're as clean as we are. Do what you want. But I owe them this."

Glen scooted towards Steve a few inches and nodded his agreement.

"Steve," Heinriche replied sympathetically. "I can't even begin to comprehend what you both went through. But I understand where you are coming from. I won't fault you your loyalty. " The captain glanced at the still unconscious spy at their feet. "But my God, Steve you almost killed the guy."

"Sir." Glen glared at Heinriche. "Compared to what they did to us every day back there. This isn't even a tenth."

Ltjg McAdams could have cared less about his dying prisoner; but the two officers on his trunk were in about the same condition. _Surely somebody will fill me in _He thought as he ran to get the van.

As McAdams stopped the van near his car Private Jones grabbed their spy by the shoulders and dragged him to the back of the surveillance van. The lieutenant opened the rear doors and both men lifted the unconscious man into the vehicle.

. Glen slid off the car under his own power, and with McAdams' help, crawled into the back of the van next to the prisoner.

"Let's get out of her son." Heinriche suggested as he cautiously pulled Steve off of the car trunk.

McGarrett, who was barely conscious, slowly moved his feet as Heinriche half carried him the short distance to the van and deposited him on the floor beside Glen. Heinriche slammed the rear doors closed and walked around the side of the vehicle and got into the passenger seat.

"Lt. Anderson." The radio squawked as McAdams pulled away from the scene.

Glen roused at the sound of his name and looked up at the roof.

"Chief Morgan here." The voice continued. "I found the car Sir. You aren't going to believe this...Sir?"

Heinriche rubbed the back of his head and nodded towards the radio and McAdams handed him the microphone. "Believe what Chief?" He said into the mic.

"Captain?" The confused voice inquired.

Heinriche glanced over at Glen as he lay against the side of the van with his eyes closed. "He's a little occupied right now. What did you find?"

"Well Sir..." Morgan responded uncertainly. Anderson had been very evasive about the reason for the search but specific that he was to report immediately to him. "The car was auctioned off six months ago. Sold for two hundred bucks to a man named James W. Smith. I drove out to the address he gave. There's no house just an empty lot."

"Smith huh.." Heinriche smirked. "Figures. Gather up all the documentation Chief. And bring it to the hospital."

"Hospital?" Morgan verified. "I thought the commander was going home."

The captain stared at the unconscious McGarrett laying beside him. "Not this time Chief."

McAdams brought the van to a screeching halt at the trauma door, leaped out of the driver's side and ran into the building. Heinriche slowly opened his door and followed the lieutenant.

Saprestien laughed at one of the on call surgeon's jokes as they left the doctor's lounge and headed towards the trauma unit. Saprestien was on his way home when he crashed into McAdams.

McAdams, in his hurry to find a doctor, rounded the corner and collided with a medical officer. Jerry quickly explained the situation and insisted that the physicians follow him.

"Oh my God!" Both doctors uttered in unison as they stared into the back of the van.

With a reassuring pat on the back and promise to get to him shortly directed at private Jones Saprestien directed the orderlies to get his patient into the first room and left the scene.

The surgeon knew that more MDs were on their way but right now he had to chose between Glen and the prisoner. Deciding that Spy was in worse shape he ordered IV fluids for Anderson and sent him with the medics to room 2 to await another physician and turned his attention towards the prisoner.

"Hold it!" Heinriche ordered. "My man goes first." The captain demanded as he pointed at Glen.

The surgeon turned abruptly towards Heinriche and explained that rank had nothing to do with the Hippocratic Oath. The argument began to get heated; the captain pressed his point that his men should receive preference over what he considered technically a prisoner of war. The physician countered that in his hospital he was the law and had no further time to waste arguing. A parting caustic comment from Heinriche regarding the surgeon's competence went unanswered as the man followed behind the gurney into the treatment room. Heinriche followed on the doctor's heels and was met with an abrupt slam of the door in his face.

Finding himself with nothing left to do for his men Heinriche reluctantly set out in search of a phone to inform Admiral Winters of the evenings events.

Petty Officer Third class Angeline Harris looked up from behind the ward clerk's desk with a sense of dread as Heinriche approached. The captain was very subdued when he asked for a private phone. Harris pointed down a short hallway towards a small conference room.

The room was unoccupied at the moment. Heinriche sighed in relief as he staggered into the room and collapsed onto the dark green vinyl couch that was just inside the door. The events of the evening weighed heavily on his mind as he massaged his stiff neck and throbbing head. Heinriche sat in the dimly lit room for what seemed to him like forever before he reluctantly reached over for the phone, picked up the receiver and dialed the admiral's private number. As he waited for the connection, he went over in his mind what he would say to his commanding officer. _We caught the spy, but your men were nearly killed in the process. _His conscience bellowed. The captain forced himself to breathe normally. By the time the line was picked up, he still was not totally prepared to explain what had happened.

As Heinriche told the story of the evening's events that concluded with a trip to the hospital the admiral quietly listened. It seemed to Winters that procedure had been followed but with unfortunate adverse results. The spy had been captured and the specter of Washington had been exorcised. Winters felt the tenseness that had filled his body for the past few months leave his body. He had been about to end the conversation when Heinriche told what could only be described as 'the rest of the story'. From that moment on the conversation between the two senior officers seemed almost surreal to both parties. Neither officer quite comprehended the wild turn of events. The phone conference lasted for upwards of an hour before Admiral Winters stated that he would contact Washington immediately and hung up.

Heinriche left the conference room and made his way back to the emergency waiting room only to find it was deserted. He sat on one the plastic benches and waited impatiently for a condition report on his men.

Masterchief Floyd Morgan burst into the emergency ward and approached the desk where Petty Officer Harris, who was doing her best to avoid any interaction with 'Captain Pain In The Hinney' as she had dubbed him to herself. She informed the chief that a surgical suite had been reserved for Lt Anderson and that as far as she knew Cdr McGarrett was still in the examination room. Morgan asked what had happened. Harris replied that she only knew that four patients entered at the same time and that three of them were in critical condition. Morgan leaned on the desk as the ramifications of her statement ran through his mind. Harris picked up the chief's manila envelope off of her stack of filing and set it on top of the counter and gestured towards Heinriche.

The middle-aged masterchief turned to his right and saw the captain sitting quietly on the plastic bench staring at the triage area.

"Evening Sir." Morgan greeted as he crossed the wide corridor towards the bench.

Heinriche automatically returned the salute. He wearily stood in order to escort Chief back to the relative privacy the conference room would afford them.

Morgan was quickly brought up to speed in regard to the investigation. At the end of the informal briefing Chief was as dazed by the situation as his superior.

"When I found the damage Sir." Morgan reported. "And heard who was involved, I immediately notified Lt. Fitzsimmons and he took charge of the scene."

Heinriche glared at the man sitting next to him on the sofa. The fact that the spy was a Soviet agent seemed to clear Lt Fitzsimmons but Heinriche hadn't yet been able to realize that.

"That's SOP Sir. He is the most senior officer after McGarrett." Morgan replied as he swallowed hard. "Wasn't I supposed....."

The captain relaxed back against the vinyl couch and slapped Morgan on the thigh. "You've been around a long time Chief."

"Did I screw up Sir?"

"No. No." The captain reassured. ""You followed procedure, no fault there. "

Morgan sat back against the couch and ran his fingers through his unruly hair. "Then why are you concerned about Fitzsimmons Sir? He's surely not involved in this?"

"No. He's not!" Heinriche snapped defensively.

Morgan raised his eyebrows at the captain's tone.

Heinriche leaned forwards and placed his elbows on his knees. "Just allot of soul searching on my part." He said as he quickly leaned back against the couch when he felt the blood pounding behind his eyes. "Do you know this Garvin, Chief?" He asked as he massaged his eyes.

"I've seen him around the NCO club," Morgan replied. "Talked to him a few times." His mind still swam from the revelation that the man was in reality a Russian agent. "But obviously I didn't know enough about him" Chief added ruefully.

Heinriche carefully turned his head towards the man sitting next to him. "Guess sometimes you think you know someone only to find out that you really don't know the person at all." He stated philosophically then added quickly. "Tell me what you do know about him Chief."

"Well he seemed very patriotic. He collects American flags." The Chief paused to reflect on his statement. "Maybe a little too patriotic in retrospect."

"He what!" The captain exclaimed.

Collects flags Sir. You know, old ones from around the time of the Civil War." Morgan quickly added. "I remember him saying once that some people where he lived were throwing away a bunch of them out of the attic of an old house they had bought. It pissed him off so much that snatched the whole lot away from them."

Heinriche could feel his blood starting to boil. IT infuriated him to learn that their Soviet spy collected such treasures.

"That's what I mean Sir, he seemed like a regular guy." Morgan continued. "He even knows more baseball trivia than Commander McGarrett."

A brief grin crossed the captain's face. "Well now that would be alot chief."

"From what I've heard Sir, he's a sailor's sailor. Been everywhere and done just about everything."

Heinriche's mind had slipped off onto another plane.

"With the exception of his last job of course....." The Chief quickly added.

"What?" The captain raised a curious eyebrow at the man sitting next to him on the sofa.

"He got a lousy deal. Things like that just aren't done to a masterchief." The man spat.

"Chief?" Heinriche said in effort to keep the man on target.

"He was at Groton till the Little Tyrant got pissed off at him." Morgan realized too late what he had said. "Sir." He swallowed.

Heinriche made a half wave of dismissal with his left hand as he massaged his stiff neck with the other." I was on the same review board as Rickover long time ago. Well acquainted with the personality." He slumped down on the sofa so that his neck rested on the back of it. "What happened?"

"You wouldn't believe it Sir."

"Try me." Heinriche smiled momentarily as he rolled his head in the chief's direction.

The admiral ordered him to make a pot of soup."

A curious eyebrow was raised.

"Yes Sir. I guess he decided that it would be prudent to follow the odd order. So he made the soup and when he brought it to him, the admiral spit out a mouthful and threw the bowl across the room. Said there was too much salt in it." Morgan tried to relax his tense muscles. "Garvin tried to explain and Rickover would have no part of it. Said putting in salt before tasting was an example of poor planning."

Heinriche shook his head in disgust.

"Threw him out of his program on the spot." Morgan snapped. "Promised him the worst duty an engineering chief could get."

Heinriche laughed in spite of himself. "That would be the Azores with Groton coming in a close second but definitely not Hawaii."

"I think Sir, someone in personnel interceded on his behalf. You just don't pull things like that on a senior NCO." Morgan snapped. "Not without a damn good reason. And especially not to an ex-POW and has the Cross to boot. It just isn't done Sir!"

"Calm down Chief." Heinriche stated. "I agree with you. But THIS senior NCO just happens to be a Soviet agent!"

"Sir." Morgan swallowed the lump in his throat."I......" He stammered. "I can't get over this. It's just so wild."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." The captain replied as he slid down into the sofa. "But I guess we have to face the music. You better get his jacket and bring it back over here. Might as well see what else has been compromised besides the Nautilus."

The masterchief stood and with a casual salute he turned and left to retrieve the requested file.

Heinriche stared at the doorway for only a few seconds before he slipped into a light trance. He had been fighting the sense of disconnectedness that was enveloping him but could no longer continue the struggle.

The staccato click of Saprestien's oxford heels on the linoleum floor aroused the captain from his stupor. When he opened his eyes he saw a visibly outraged physician standing less than a foot away from him

"McGarrett?" Heinriche worriedly asked as he struggled to regain his bearings.

"Unconscious!" Saprestien fumed as he straightened to his full height.

Heinriche cringed as another pang of guilt shot through his chest. His head began to swim. "What happened?" He whispered as he leaned forwards and hung his head between his knees to make the lightheadedness go away.

Saprestien could no longer contain the rage that had been brewing since he had gotten Steve out of the van a few hours earlier. "Exhaustion. He ran himself into shock." The MD hissed. "multiple contusions, moderate concussion, dehydration....Shall I go on?"

"Dear God." Heinriche sighed as he sat back against the couch. "Dehydrated? He drank almost a quart of water tonight."

"COMPENSATION MECHANISM!" Saprestien exploded. "He lost nearly that amount of blood this afternoon. I let him go under the assumption that he'd rest at home. Had I of known this was going to happen I would have kept him here." Doc was so enraged he could barely focus as he grabbed blindly at Heinriche's shirt. "Sedated and in restraints if need be to keep you away from him."

The captain let the physician rage on because he was too queasy to fight back. The dizziness was becoming much worse.

"You almost killed him tonight Captain." When his anger came back under control Saprestien shoved the man back against the sofa. "I hope that you are satisfied."

"I....." Heinriche struggled to find the words to express the anguish he felt.

"There's no excuse Captain." Saprestien cut in.

"Now just a damn minute here." Heinriche struggled to his feet.

Saprestien took on an eerie glow as the lights behind him pulsated. Heinriche felt his stomach flop as the room began to swirl.

"What the hell...." Saprestien uttered in confusion as Heinriche fell forwards into him. Unprepared for the captain's collapse, both men fell backwards against the coffee table and to the floor. Once he recovered from the impact he swore at the man as he shoved him sideways and rolled out from underneath the body. The diminutive physician straddled the unmoving Heinriche and pinned him to the floor.

_OH I crap!_Saprestien thought to himself when he saw the man's ghostly pallor and felt the limp arms in his grasp turn clammy. He had been prepared to curse this man up one side and down the other and now he was his patient.

"Captain!" He shouted as he shook the man insistently. A check of the man's pulse revealed a strong and regular, there was no distension of his neck veins. While palpatating the carotid artery the tips of Doc's fingers touched the lump on the back of Heinriche's head. A more detailed examination of the occiput elicited a moan of discomfort from the unconscious man.

With a sigh Saprestien came to his feet and walked out into the hallway in search of assistance.

Two seamen entered the conference room ahead of the returning physician and a nurse from the ER. With a fluid movement they lifted Heinriche onto the gurney and attempted to lock the siderails. The captain's right arm hit against the cart causing another moan of discomfort.

The group left the room and headed towards the exam room.

"Admiral Burke?" Heinriche mumbled deliriously. "What does the CNO want with me Quinn?"

Saprestien's attention was drawn from the odd statement as another pair of seamen wheeled Steve past them enroute to the elevator.

"In and out." Doc grinned slightly at the nurse as they entered the recently vacated room. "This bunch is going to make me old before my time."

Heinriche continued to mumble seemingly incoherent statements through out the examination.

shortly the x-ray tech rushed in with a large manila envelope in his hands and offered it to the physician.

Saprestien extracted the heavy plastic sheets and clipped them to the lighted viewer on the wall. Eerie blue images of Heinriche's skull stared back at Saprestien as he studied the film. There was no skull fracture.

Satisfied that the man was not badly injured, Doc sat on the gray metal chair by the desk. He leaned his head back against the wall and watched as Heinriche's leg muscles involuntarily twitched and contracted.

Serve him right if he went into a seizure He sneered and quickly berated himself for the totally unprofessional thought and turned around to begin his notes.

"McGarrett!" The captain cried out. "No!"

Doc looked up from the chart he had been writing in.

"I've killed him." Heinriche mumbled in unconscious anguish. "Please God, don't let him be dead."

"Well I'll be..." Saprestien stated in disbelief and set the chart on the counter beside him and crossed his arms across his chest. "The tin man has a heart after all."

Half observations, snatched pieces of conversations and the seemingly delusional rantings of both Heinriche and McGarrett suddenly coalesced in Saprestien's mind. He saw the entire scenario with such clarity he knew that he had to have deduced the truth. "Sweet Jesus whatever's missing must be huge!"

The Secretary of the Navy himself had pushed the panic button who in turn had ordered Saprestien to release McGarrett from the hospital in the first place.

"More warheads?" Doc wondered aloud. "Nah, they'd send someone else just to look see. Gotta be something he's expert at." Doc suddenly became aware that he was talking out loud to himself. _But he's a SWO, plenty of those in the Navy. Nothing on a ship that couldn't just be photographed from a plane. IN the ship maybe._

Saprestien watched Heinriche as he continued to theorize and noticed the he was starting to come around.

What's in a ship though. Guns, torpedoes, no big deal. The engines themselves? Wait, Frank said he would be involved in this soon.

"Something nuclear, a missile! Evershall's an aircraft engineer." He suddenly smacked the side of his head. "That's it! McGarrett mumbled something about Germans.....Holy crap, we've got a satellite!"

Doris Parker shook her head as she walked past the open exam room door and heard Saprestien conversing with himself yet again.

Saprestien now understood the urgency that fueled McGarrett and Heinriche. He still disliked the captain but Doc now understood that Heinriche was under orders just as he had been.

Heinriche slowly opened his eyes and stared up at the overhead lights. He was unsure exactly where he was but knew it was not where he was supposed to be. The captain tried to focus his thoughts.

"McGarrett!" Heinriche shouted and tried to sit up. HE had only moved a few inched off the pillow before his vision warped.

"Woah Sir." Saprestien ordered as he stepped over to the table and gently pushed the man back down, "You don't want to be moving around."

Heinriche stared at the man standing over him.

"Relax. The commander's upstairs. You are both going to be alright."

Heinriche glared at the physician as he cautiously attempted to sit up again.

Chief Morgan entered the trauma unit carrying Garvin's personnel file and headed down the corridor to the conference room.

"Chief!" Heinriche shouted when he saw the man pass by the door, and immediately closed his eyes as the echo of the word reverberated inside his head.

Morgan stopped midstride when he heard his name and turned in the direction of the sound. When he entered the exam room and saw the captain sliding off the exam table. "What happened Sir?" HE asked as he grabbed the man by the arm in an attempt to steady him.

"Not now Chief." The senior officer barked. He had yet to figure out the answer to that question himself.

Doc grabbed hold of Heinriche's arm as he tried to take a step and stumbled over his own feet. "Woah. Where do you think you're going?"

The captain pulled his arm free and moved to the door.

Stubborn goat Saprestien said to himself as he stepped around the chief to block Heinriche's path. He would not have his patient's walking out until he said they could.

"Out of my way!" Heinriche ordered as he brushed past the doctor and left through open doorway and into the corridor. He snatched the file away from Morgan and staggered back to the conference room.

Morgan promised Saprestien that he would keep an eye on his boss and quickly caught up with the man as he wavered his way down the corridor and escorted him into the conference room.

Heinriche sat on the sofa and opened the folder and began to read. The more he got into the documentation the more amazed he became. Garvin's file read like a tour guide of the US Navy. The man had indeed 'been everywhere and done everything' as Morgan had heard. Just how much information he had managed to pilfer remained unanswered but it was safe to assume that the satellite had been compromised as deeply as the nuclear program. The captain sat back on the sofa and wearily rubbed his face. There was nothing he could do now until Steve and Glen woke up. 


	7. Chapter 7

_  
_

The morning sun had just begun to rise when Vice Admiral Curtis L. Winters, Chief of 7th Fleet Operations, arrived at the base hospital. Weary from a night on the phone with pentagon officials he stifled a yawn as he entered the conference room where Captain Heinriche and Masterchief Floyd Morgan waited. Morgan started to stand but the admiral waved him back down. Heinriche reluctantly got up from his chair and led him to McGarrett's room.

Both men were very subdued from the impact Commander McGarrett's revalation.

Saprestien had assured Captain Heinriche an hour or so earlier that Steve was arouseable. But he had not been able to bring himself to face the man alone. Heinriche held the door for his superior as they slipped in past an exiting lab tech.

Winters studied the man that lay quietly in the darkened room. From what he knew of the commander he was not prone to exaggeration and therefore the wild tale was sadly one hundred percent true. But there was still the possibility that McGarrett had been mistaken and in the back of his mind Winters still clung to this dim hope of averting the upcoming crisis.

Heinriche watched the IV fluid drop into the drip chamber as he tried to figure out what he was going to say.

Winters exhaled forcefully and leaned over the rail to awaken the sleeping man. He stopped abruptly, with his hand hovering over McGarrett's right shoulder, and gave Heinriche a questioning glance.

"Right side Sir." Heinriche clarified.

The admiral nodded and pulled back his hand. "Commander?" He asked as he reached across the bed to shake McGarrett's left shoulder.

At the slight touch Steve jolted awake. "What?" He asked as his eyes darted around the room then focused on Heinriche. A look of panic grew on his face. "Something happen to Glen?"

"Relax." Heinriche reassured. "I saw him not too long ago. He's still dopey but OK."

"Why scare the hell out of me then?" Steve, though still a bit shaken, demanded.

Heinriche looked at McGarrett curiously as he wondered where that reaction had came from. Inwardly he was relieved that Steve hadn't tried to dive underneath anything this time.

Heinriche's thoughts were interrupted as Winters jerked him back towards the door.

"Level with me Al." The admiral asked when they were back in the corridor. "Is he alright?"

As Heinriche looked back into the room he wondered, unlike the previous incident in the office, Steve didn't seem as agitated._ Maybe that's an improvement_ He thought as he watched the man stare into nothingness. Heinriche knew that most of the time it was impossible to tell what McGarrett was thinking anyhow. "I think so Sir." he replied after a moment. "Perhaps last night was just a little too close to what happened to him in Korea."

In agreement Winters sighed and nodded his head slightly.

"That on top of the crash." Heinriche continued in defense of his officer. "Which we didn't allow him to recover from. I wouldn't blame him for being a bit jumpy. In fact, I'd wonder more about him if he wasn't."

Winters thought back to the one-sided conversation he had with Admiral Arleigh Burke that had compelled him to order Captain Heinriche to push Commander McGarrett. "You're probably right Al." He replied in agreement and headed back into the room.

"Commander..." The admiral asked thoughtfully as he walked up to the bed. "Are you alright?"

Steve answered with a slow nod of his head as his mind slowly focused on reality.

"That's one incredible story Son." Winters continued. "Are you sure about this mole business?"

"Yes Sir." Steve replied with certainty.

A wave of fear coursed through Admiral Winters as he stared at the man before him. _A traitor is one thing. _He thought. _Good men do go bad. But deep planted Russian moles..._ "Sweet Jesus!" The admiral whistled in astonishment. "If it's true the entire military will come to a screeching halt.

"I'm well aware of what it means Sir." Steve retorted. "Just vetting five hundred and twenty three guys is not going to be enough. We are going to have to take their histories back to day one. And if this went on at Lang Bak, Admiral, then who's to say it wasn't happening in the other camps as well. That's another seven thousand plus names."

Heinriche stared out the window.

Admiral Winters shook his head in astonishment. He swallowed hard at the implications of McGarrett's statement and willed himself not to tremble.

"Good Lord." The captain whispered.

"And there's only four of us to conduct the investigation." Steve sighed as he slid down in the bed.

Heinriche paced the room as he tried to assimilate the situation.

As Steve lay in the bed and stared at the ceiling he suddenly remembered the letter from Allied Chemical with Jim Warren's name on it. "It could spread into the civilian sector too Sir." He said.

Heinriche stopped his pacing and raised an eyebrow at McGarrett.

As Steve described the coincidental discovery of his friend's name on the letterhead and how because of the radical difference in backgrounds between the two men he had dismissed the entire scenario.

Winters was even more aghast at the enormity of the situation. The admiral took a few steps away from the side of the bed and began to feel his knees go weak. "Son." He implored as he leaned on the foot of the bed for support and shook his head. "Are you certain this is the man who shot you?"

"Yes Sir." Steve replied with finality. "I got a good look at him six years ago. They intended to kill us and put agents in our places. Ready made covers. Once the war was over they could be reassigned all over the world. New jobs, new friends. Who'd ever question...except for their families." Steve winced as he scooted back up in the bed. "Sir, I remember what it was like when the Freedom Gate came open. It was nuts. People were being reassigned before we could even begin to debrief them. It took over a year to process all the paperwork and try to chase down who had gotten missed." Steve suddenly laughed which caused both men to stare at him curiously. "Four single intelligence officers. Man what a golden opportunity missed. I wonder what they did to Tang for that."

Winters smiled reluctantly.

"If you get the file from DC on Masterchief Garvin, Sir, I guarantee the photo and fingerprints won't match the Ivan we've got here." Swallowing hard Steve stared up at the ceiling. "I wonder who the real Garvin was."

"That's a bad road Son." Heinriche said as he put his hand on Steve's arm in sympathy. "Don't even start down it."

There had been seven thousand four hundred and eighty-one US POW's during the Korean Conflict. Winters was unsure of the totals for England and the rest the NATO countries, but the numbers were probably similar he figured. And each of those men was now a potential spy. The admiral's stomach knotted as his mind recoiled at the thought.

Captain Heinriche did not know what to think as he stood in bewilderment at the side of the bed.

"They are going to want you in the Pentagon." Winters remarked for lack of anything else to say at the moment.

"No way!" McGarrett fumed as he quickly sat up in the bed. He lay back against the pillow when the room started to tilt. "I've been poked, prodded, scanned from top to bottom and swallowed enough pills it's a wonder I don't rattle. Just when I've about had it up to the eyeballs." He made a semi-coordinated gesture over his head and accidentally dislodged the steel IV cannula. "They let me go. Then I chase my tail all over the island trying to find Garvin. The SOB tried to blow me off my deck. Twice! And so far tonight, I've been shot at, run over by my co-worker." Cautiously he turned his head in order to glare at Heinriche. "Even beat up by my boss. Enough is enough!" To punctuate his statement McGarrett threw the needle across the room. "I just want to be left alone. Here!"

Heinriche had learned long ago that reasoning with McGarrett was sometimes impossible. This was one of those times. Winters on the other hand was taken aback by the attitude.

Both men left the room.

"Forceful man isn't he?" Winters observed as the duo rounded the corner into the lobby.

"He can be." Heinriche remarked. "But it's not like him to refuse an order."

"After what he's been through." The admiral pressed the elevator call button. "Can't say that I blame him."

He was relieved that the admiral was not going to file charges. "He'll come around." The captain nodded in agreement.

"The brass really ought to do something here." Winters decided as he turned to face Heinriche. "You know him Al. What does he want?"

"McGarrett doesn't beat around the bush Admiral." Heinriche replied. "You heard him. He wants us to leave him alone."

"Its too bad that's not possible." Winters confessed.

"I know." Heinriche answered as he finally gave voice to the guilt he had been feeling since this had begun. The elevator door opened. "I'm the one who pushed him beyond endurance...."

"Had to be done though Al." Winters consoled as he pushed the captain into the car. "But not in a million years could we have anticipated this."

"As the car began to descend Heinriche had a great idea. "Sir, I'd be willing to bet he could put your barge to good use for a couple of days."

"That's it!?" Winters, somewhat surprised, blurted out. "Heck give it to him for two weeks. Crew included." Then with a wry smile added. "Stiff ocean breeze just might be what it takes to cool him off." Admiral Winters, friend of retired Admiral Tom Hartwell, had been keeping a discreet eye on McGarrett's career since his arrival in Hawaii. After the crash it had been Winters who pulled the strings necessary to transfer the three MDs from Japan. He had tried unsuccessfully to reason with Thirty-knot Burke over forcing McGarrett, but there had never been much tolerance between the two men because of an incident during their Academy days, and the CNO had made up his mind. Winters felt just as guilty as Heinriche.

At the chime the doors slid open and both officers stepped into the ground floor lobby.

"He could probably drive it himself." Heinriche chuckled with delight at McGarrett's upcoming reward. "Your boat's not nearly as big as the Excalibur was."

Winters stopped in mid stride and turned towards Heinriche. "The ship that backed across the East China Sea?" He exclaimed. " THAT WAS MCGARRETT?"

Heinriche nodded. "There's a picture of what was left of the crew and a chunk of the engine on his wall."

"Holy..." Winters whistled.

"Quite a story." Heinriche sighed.

"I was in Tokyo when that happened. Winters said as he recalled the event. "My chef goes with it."

Heinriche grinned as he wondered just how far the admiral was going to go.

That crew was jipped! Winters thought. "You think he wants the band too?" The admiral grinned.

"Now that I don't know." Heinriche replied. "I know he hates parades."

"Really?" Winters replied. "Doesn't strike me as being the shy type."

"Any kind of public speaking engagement." The captain replied. "He tries to get out of it."

Winters laughed as he recalled the fiasco of what he figured was probably the young ensign's, now a full commander, first public address. "The boat and crew, my chef and the band for two weeks as soon as they are healthy enough to enjoy it." Winters ordered as he walked towards the front door of the hospital. "Oh and Al.." He abruptly stopped mid stride and turned toward Heinriche who had stopped to lean against a display case "Tell him I'll throw in some of that new SCUBA stuff if he knows how to use it."

"If he doesn't already." Heinriche thought he had seen a set of tanks in the office on several occasions but had never bothered to find out which officer liked to dive. "I'm sure he'll learn."

Winters chuckled then stated with admiration "This kid keeps it up he's going to be an admiral before he's forty"

Heinriche saluted as the admiral opened the door.

"Get some sleep Al." Winters advised as the two men parted company.

The morning sun streamed in through the open window. Regardless of which way he turned Steve could not avoid the light. Saprestien had just left after lecturing him for tearing out the IV. Of all the men whom had dared to stand up to him, McGarrett mused; the majority of them had been doctors. This one had given him two options, drink what had seemed like a gallon of water or the IV would be restarted and his hands tied down for the duration. The former seemed the best option, so reluctantly he choked down the proffered water.

Now that he was awake McGarrett decided he might as well find out what was going on and tossed back the sheet. Splinting his ribcage he cautiously sat on the edge of the bed and waited for his equilibrium to return then slid out of the bed. Holding on to the furniture he made his way to the closet to retrieve the uniform someone had thoughtfully left for him and returned to the bed.

Clothes on. Shoes tied. Still vertical. Steve grinned in triumph as he lay back on the bed to plot his next move. Based on the view outside the window and the K-shaped crack in the ceiling that he had stared at for two months Steve concluded that he was back in his old room on the fourth floor. His next objective was to locate Glen.

"Morning Sir." Private Jones greeted and hesitantly entered the room.

There was a sling on the marine's right arm and Steve could see part of a dressing underneath the olive drab T-shirt. "What in the world happened to you?" He asked.

"You don't remember Sir?" The marine replied as he sat in the chair beside the bed. "The maintenance man shot me right before you charged out of the fire stairs."

"You were there last night?" Steve ventured. "How did..."

Jones assumed that McGarrett did not remember the events that had landed them both in the hospital and related his part in the situation along with what few pieces of information he had managed to gather.

At Jones expressed wish to know what had started the whole thing Steve filled in most of the holes in the kid's story.

"Wow!" Jones swallowed in astonishment and rubbed his arm.

"Good job private." Steve praised and started to salute before he realized neither of them could complete the gesture. "Congratulations." He smiled. "You just got your first medal."

"Huh Sir?" Jones wondered.

"The spy was Russian that technically makes it a combat related injury." Steve informed.

"Oh yeah." Jones beamed. "Hey! I gotta tell my momma!!"

"Uh..." McGarrett uttered in an effort to rein in the private's enthusiasm. "That's not exactly the kind of thing mothers want to hear over the phone from six thousand miles away."

"Yeah. You're right Sir." The marine agreed and slumped back dejectedly in his chair.

"When's the last time you saw her?" Steve asked when he saw the young man's disappointment.

"At the train station when I left for boot camp Sir."

"Graduation?"

"It was harvest time Sir. Papa couldn't leave the farm just for that. My older sister had a baby that same week so Mamma had to stay with her. And the others are younger than me."

"Everything's West of Parris Island. You could have stopped on your way out here."

"I was going to Sir." Jones replied and slid further down in his chair. "A sergeant came along and shoved my platoon into a transport plane on its way to Korea. We got as far as Tokyo and told we would be reassigned from there. Thirty-six hours later I was here."

"I'll talk to Colonel Abrahms later." Steve promised as he sat up. "You can recover in the states just as well as here."

"Thank you Commander!" Jones replied excitedly.

"But for right now." Steve asked as he stood and hung onto the back of the chair until his balance returned. "Do you know where Lieutenant Anderson is?"

"Sure Sir." Jones replied as he tilted his head up to look at the officer leaning over his shoulder. "Three doors down. But he's still out of it."

Though it had only been a few feet between his room and Glen's Steve felt like he had ran a mile as he pushed open the maple wood door. Anderson appeared to be relaxed McGarrett decided as he watched the rise and fall of his friend's chest. Beneath the white USN lettered blanket Steve could see that Glen's leg was elevated on a pillow. Someone had assured him during the night that Glen's injury was not serious. Even though he was dazed at the time McGarrett remained unconvinced. In the semi-darkness he could see part of the sutures amidst the blood streaked blonde hair on the back of Glen's head. _Looks serious enough to me. _Steve thought. But the absence, save for the single IV in his left hand, of tubes and wires meant that it was not a critical injury. McGarrett stared at the tiny clear drops of fluid as they fell from the plastic spike into the chamber and counted the rate at twenty-eight per minute. The number seemed low since his had been set at forty drops. _Maybe it's a different kind. _Steve rationalized as he leaned over to try and read the black lettering on the olive green label that was pasted on the glass IV bottle. He grabbed hold of Glen's bedrail as the room tilted briefly.

The motion of his bed served to arouse Anderson who moaned as his eyes tried to adjust to the dim light.

"Good afternoon." Steve grinned as he looked down at his friend. "About time you joined us. How do you feel?"

"Hey Steve." Glen mumbled as he tried to focus on his fuzzy visitor. "No wonder you didn't want to wake up." The affects of the sedation were just beginning to wear off. "This is pretty OK." He giggled. "I'm way high up someplace but...oh man what a ride!"

Steve shook his head in disbelief. The disconnectedness that had annoyed him was a pleasure for Glen. "Enjoy it while you can then." He explained. "You'll be crashing in a few hours."

"Gee thanks." Glen groaned. He was sorry that his fuzzy pink orbit was going to come to an abrupt and probably painful end.

"I called Ron and Roger." Steve continued as he walked over to the window and sat on the radiator underneath it. "They're on their way here. Garvin's back in surgery."

"Garvin?" Glen mumbled. "I don't remember a Garvin...."

"That's the name The Spy was using." Steve told him.

"You OK?" Anderson slurred as the sedation tried to carry him back into the cloud.

"Yeah." Steve replied rubbing his right arm. "I guess so. Heck there's nothing left on me to break. They want to keep me anyway though. I'm not fighting it. Yet."

"Heaven help us when you do...." Glen teased as he tried to smile.

Steve smiled reluctantly as he slowly stood up. "Admiral Winters is on my back now. We're liable to have to go to DC because of this."

"Nuts!" Glen sighed. "Any other good news..."

"No. That's about it." Steve replied as he walked towards the foot of the bed. "You know." He continued as he dropped into the gray vinyl chair. "For one day I'd like everyone to just leave me alone."

Nurse Parker walked into the room with her usual purposeful gait intent on checking Glen's neurological status. "Commander!" She gasped in surprise and halted abruptly. "What are you doing in here?" She quickly recovered and glared sternly at the visitor.

"Look out Glen." Steve grinned and pointed towards Doris. "It's The Hatchet Lady."

"Back where you belong." She ordered as she moved to chase him out of the room.

"In a few minutes." Steve replied and put his feet up on the corner of Glen's bed. "Garvin out of surgery yet?"

"No." She replied and lifted Glen's arm out from underneath the wool blanket. "Is the grapevine true?" She ventured curiously. "That you put him in that condition? And that he's really a Russian?"

"That's some grapevine." Steve started to laugh but bit his lip as the edges of his rib grated against each other. "How did? Never mind....unofficially....guilty on both counts."

Doris Parker's jaw dropped in response and she let Glen's arm fall back onto the bed.

"You gonna lecture me for that too." Steve teased.

"Yes, I am." She replied as she straightened her posture. "You should have finished the job. Now I have to take care of him."

Despite the agony in his chest Steve couldn't help but laugh at the mischievous look on her face. "Get your needle ready." He choked out between gasps.

"You deserved that." Parker said curtly as she noted Glen's vitals on the flow sheet. "I'm sure I can come up with something better for this scum."

"I'll bet you can." McGarrett winced as he tried to resume a normal breathing pattern.

"Ten minutes Commander." Doris ordered as she snapped the chart closed. "I'd better find you in your room waiting for me." With the ultimatum delivered Nurse Parker turned on her heel and exited the room.

"What'd you do to her?" Glen smirked.

"I don't know exactly." Steve glared at Anderson. "Probably the three months I spent on her ward."

"Well that explains everything." Anderson replied as he rolled his eyes and laughed.

"Just you wait pal." Steve shot him a dirty look. "She'll get you."

Glen was still in another world when he giggled at his friend's warning. "What happens now?" He asked as reality started to set in.

"Till Garvin comes around. You're going to enjoy what's left of your buzz. And I'm going to take a nap." Steve stated as he flexed his knees. "Till the brass finds me anyway." He added with a sigh.

"And when Garvin does...." Glen muttered through his haze.

"You ever do one of those pentathol confessions?" McGarrett, hoping for experience in the procedure, inquired."

"On the giving end. Nope." Glen replied. "You?"

"I saw it done once by an Aussie leftenant."

"You going to do Garvin?" Glen asked with a grin from the impending excitement.

"Try to anyway." Steve sighed in resolution.

"What about Heinriche?" Anderson stated. "That old fart was attached to OSS for a while. Surely he must have done it before."

"He's tied up with the admirals." Steve informed. "That leaves me." Steve put his feet on the floor, grabbed hold of Glen's bedrail and slowly pulled himself to a standing position.

"Don't know if I'll be much help." Glen said. "But come get me before you start."

"Thanks." Steve replied. He was glad that he was not going to do the job alone. "Enjoy your ride." McGarrett grinned as he turned to leave the room.

The bed had been made while he was in Glen's room McGarrett noted before he collapsed on top of it. Steve was asleep when Nurse Parker entered, exactly ten minutes after her departure from Anderson's room. She did not have the heart to wake him up and had quietly shut the blinds and left the room.

Saprestien, on his afternoon rounds, merely looked in the door in order to assure the patient was still breathing.

Admiral Winters had insisted that the other flag officers refrain from disturbing McGarrett.

Late that evening Garvin was brought out of recovery and into the confinement room at the far end of the hall.

Ensign Tomlich had been assigned to watch the prisoner while McAdams was running between the rooms and updating Heinriche on the men's conditions.

Jerry McAdams reluctantly entered the room and saw that someone had put a blanket over McGarrett since his last check. He walked up to the bed and gently tugged on the khaki sleeve. "Sir?" He called out softly.

"Go away." Steve replied groggily and placed his left arm over his eyes.

"I'd like to Commander, believe me." McAdams apologized.

"So.. What's stopping you." Steve's subconscious retorted.

"They're moving the prisoner Sir." Jerry stated as he shook a little bit harder.

"What!" Steve replied as he jolted awake. "Where? Let's go."

McAdams led the way as McGarrett staggered along behind him.

Garvin had just arrived in his room as the pair of officers slipped in unnoticed behind the nurses and waited quietly in the corner for the women to leave.

"What are you going to do Sir?" The Lieutenant asked with trepidation as Steve approached the bed.

McGarrett lifted The Spy's left eyelid and tapped him on the chest. There was no response from underneath the heavy blankets.

"You're about to learn the ugly side of our business." Steve replied as he glared icily at the unconscious Garvin. "We've got a while yet. Go get Glen and the others. _Bill! He might have done this before _"Fitzsimmons still acting CO?"

McAdams nodded. "He's been going over the Russian's quarters all day Sir. The office is a mess. Chief's got every available man looking for bugs. Nobody's even swept up the glass yet."

"Ask Bill to call me. Oh and while you're at it see if Doc Saprestien is still around." Steve shook the bedrail hard enough to move Garvin's body. " I'd hate to accidentally kill the bastard."

Tomlich sat very quietly in the corner unsure of what to say as Steve stood beside the bed staring at the prisoner.

Doc Saprestien stepped in front of Glen who was being pushed in a wheelchair by Lt. McAdams in order to be the first one in the room. "What's going on here?" The MD demanded. "Who said you could leave your room."

"I did." McGarrett retorted angrily.

Just by being in the same room with one of his former captors Glen could feel his emotions start to rage out of control. By the expression on Steve's face he could tell that his ex-cellmate was riding the same roller coaster. "This is business Steve." Glen reminded.

McGarrett stared out the barred window for several minutes before turning around to face the group. After a brief glance of appreciation at Anderson he turned towards Doc and stated very calmly that Spy was about to confess.

Saprestien looked at the very unconscious man on the bed then stared at Steve in confusion.

"How much pentathol did he get?" McGarrett demanded.

"I don't...." Doc picked up the chart that was lying, courtesy of Ensign Foggarty, on the end of the bed and began to leaf through it. "He didn't. Serepen and Diludad are the only things I see that are even similar. Why?"

Steve wanted to get on with the interrogation.

"Well, does that work the same way?" He demanded.

"You talked your head off." Saprestien retorted as he returned McGarrett's intense glare. "If that's what you are wanting. The effects will be similar." He tossed the chart back on the bed and stood up to his full five foot six inch height. "Just what are you planning on doing to him?"

"Nothing much." Steve replied with a brief predatory smile that scared the life out of Saprestien. "Just convince him that it'd be in his best interest to tell me everything he knows."

Doc returned to his position against the wall and didn't say another word. In the four months that he had known McGarrett, he had never seen this side of him. He had seen McGarrett's emotions run the gamut from elation to depression and just about everything in between. In moments of pain, anger, frustration and even in the midst of delusional rage McGarrett's eyes had not held the fire that they did at this moment. He really didn't know quite how to handle this situation or for that matter, if he should even try to. Deep down he did have reservations on how this would affect the man named Garvin. But since Garvin was not his patient and McGarrett was........

"Perfect." Steve stated as he pushed back Garvin's eyelid and observed the pupil reaction. "OK folks here we go. Foggarty tape the microphone to him."

Steve then bent over the man's bed and whispered "ya telbya lublo meelie" quietly into his ear and ruffled Spy's hair.

"What was that?" Foggarty, ever eager to learn, asked in excitement.

McGarrett turned to face the wide-eyed young man and grinned broadly. "I love you darling."

Foggarty blushed at the statement and wished he could sink into the floor.

"He thinks I'm his girlfriend." Steve explained. "He'll trust me. Everything will be in Russian for a while." He then cautioned the group that that too many interruptions would ruin the effectiveness of the interrogation. McGarrett turned his attention back to the prisoner and began to reassure him in his native language until Spy was visibly relaxed.

"Kooda Ahmerakanetz!" McGarrett yelled abruptly and switched into a KGB colonel persona.

The Soviet agent started to squirm anxiously. "Ya na yeh paneemayoo." He pleaded.

"Stoy! Gavareetyah ahngleeske!" McGarrett ordered the man to speak in English.

"I...do not know...comrade." Garvin pleaded. "They are gone. Escaped from the Korean."

"They were your responsibility!" McGarrett reprimanded.

"No excuse Sir." Garvin said quietly.

Steve laughed to himself at the very familiar statement.

"We must find the Americans." McGarrett ordered. "Tell me what you know."

The Spy (AKA Garvin) in his drugged state believed that he was back in North Korea on that fateful day in June of 1952. He was in very serious trouble with this Colonel from the KGB over the escape of four very important prisoners. Garvin's cloudy mind struggled to form the words to please his superior.

Vasheheeyma?" Steve asked very politely for the spy's given name.

"Alexi Michailivich Gordov, Sir." He answered in confusion. In the back of his mind he wondered why his spymaster did not recall his name.

"I said English!" Steve leaned over the rail and screamed into the man's ear and slapped him across the face. "You are going to be one of the agents Alexi. Do not let this slip up happen again! Now what is your name?"

"Junior Lieutenant Roger Seamus Hennessey, Sir." Garvin beamed.

Steve felt his world tilt at the mention of his fellow prisoner's name and grabbed hold of the rail to keep himself upright. He had questioned himself many times whether the decision to escape at that moment had been correct. When enough intel had been gathered to make the escape possible the plan had been flee into the woods under the cover of darkness. Waiting would have spared them the severe injuries incurred during the escape but could they have withstood the additional captivity. Steve had come to believe that he would never know whether that morning he had saved their lives or pushed the panic button. He was certain that neither Glen nor Ron blamed him for their injuries but could the situation have been avoided if he had not of ordered the abrupt change in plans. Garvin had just laid that dilemma to rest with his assertion that his name was Roger Seamus Hennessey. The North Koreans had indeed planned to kill them that day in order allow Alexi and three others to assume their identities.

Glen started to get up and collapsed back into the chair. His head began to spin and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Ron and most definitely Roger would have to be told about this. How would they take the news Anderson wondered.

McGarrett cautiously shook his head, took several deep breaths and stared out the window. In the back of his mind he wondered how Glen was reacting to this revelation. Steve knew that if he chanced to look at his former cellmate he would loose what little focus he had left.

Several minutes of silence passed as the junior officers exchanged confused looks.

Saprestien was about to inquire if Steve was all right when he saw that he had turned back towards the prisoner.

"Very good Alexi!" Steve praised. "Now tell me what you know of the Americans."

The Russian was convinced that he had pleased his KGB handler and spoke for well over forty-five minutes. He detailed the plan to insert agents into the US military as returning POWs until he was too exhausted to continue and slipped back into unconsciousness.

Steve wearily sat on the end of Garvin's bed, leaned against the footboard and stared at the floor. The interrogation was going far better than he had expected.

Glen propelled the wheelchair next to the end of the bed. "Well, it worked." He stated quietly. "Steve. My God they really were going to kill us weren't they."

"Da drook." McGarrett replied unaware that he was still in his KGB colonel mode.

"Oh man...." Glen sighed.

"Sorry." Steve apologized for the Russian statement and returned to his personality. "Yeah. After they broke us anyhow. That was Tang's job."

McGarrett's energy was drained almost to exhaustion again as he looked up at his friend. Both men were still taken aback by the revelation.

The junior officers still did not understand what was going on between Steve and Glen. Saprestien had just begun to figure it out.

"You OK?" Anderson asked in concern. "Yeah." Steve answered as he sat up straight and rubbed the tense muscles in the back of his neck. "This thing's more mentally tiring than I thought it would be." "Let me have a crack at him then." Anderson offered with an unconscious sneer on his face.

McGarrett considered his options. "No. That'd ruin it." He decided. "He knows me as his friend and his enemy. Right now he's so far off balance that he'll say anything. The introduction of someone else is just too big of a variable." He gave his friend a half-hearted pat on the arm. "I'm Ok Glen, really."

Anderson knew better but let the statement ride. "There's something I have to know...."

Steve raised his eyebrows in expectation of Glen's question.

"Find out if Tang's really dead."

"For you Comrade." McGarrett grinned as he squeezed carefully past Glen's elevated leg and approached the head of the bed.

"Alexi." Steve whispered as he gently shook the Soviet. "Time to wake up darling." He cooed in Russian.

After a few moments Garvin moaned reluctantly.

"The Korean, Tang." McGarrett commanded as he returned to the aggressive persona. "He is responsible for the loss of the Americans. What has been done about that?"

"My friend." Garvin laughed from the sedative. "I killed him myself and hung his body as a warning to the rest of the lazy pigs."

Glen clapped his hands together in relief and let out a deep sigh.

"You fool!" Steve barked as he slapped the prisoner again. "We need him to find the Americans."

"I assure you. They are done for." Garvin quickly replied. "I got two of them from the helicopter. The other one was dying."

"That leaves one unaccounted for." Steve reprimanded.

"The dogs will have him." Garvin spat.

"Then they will have eaten your cover Gordov." Steve said. "We cannot take this risk. Alexi, you would have been an officer. No more. You will be sent for retraining. If you are lucky you will remain in the program. But your chance to be Hennessey just ended."

Glen sat up straight in the wheelchair at the sound of Rogers's name.

"OK Alexi." Steve redirected the Russian. "You are Peter William Garvin now. Tell me how you got to America. How did you pass the debriefing?"

"With all the other prisoners they let go." He answered. "I told the officers I was fine and wanted to get back to work. They were most helpful."

"Through the Freedom Gate?" Steve asked as he strove for clarification.

"Yes. That is what they called it." The Russian said with a smile. "They fed me ice cream till I was sick."

McGarrett's stomach knotted at the thought of the man having been so close to him. "Who was the officer?" He demanded.

"I do not....is it important?"

"Yes!" Steve demanded as he grabbed the spy by his gown.

"Steve." Glen cautioned.

"I...his name was odd....Mick something. Why Comrade?"

"Mc what?" Steve demanded as he grabbed the Soviet by the shoulders.

"Comrade!" Garvin cried out in agony.

"Steve." Glen sternly reminded. "Business first."

"I don't remember Sir." Garvin choked out between sobs. "He was a tall man."

"You had better remember, Comrade." Steve ordered as the anger within him grew.

The Spy lay quietly for several tense seconds. "McAllister." Relieved that he was able to provide the required information, Garvin sighed at length. " Lieutenant Chauncey McAllister."

McGarrett released his grip on the Russian and stepped back from the bed. He grabbed hold of the bedrail with both hands and leaned his upper body forward in relief. Army First Lieutenant Chauncey McAllister had been McGarrett's officemate during those days on the DMZ. He had disappeared on a reconnaissance mission back into North Korea. Chauncey was not missed fondly by any of the officers in his section.

"The intelligence fools." Garvin continued to gloat. "They were debriefing the sick and dying ones first. By the time anyone got to me I was already assigned to a ship. No one ever came after me. Comrade, I have done good for the Motherland?"

"Yes Alexi." Steve reassured the man with a gentle squeeze of the forearm. "You have performed well." _Too well_ He thought to himself. "But you must get the last piece of information to your handlers. "How will you do that?"

"I do not have anything." The prisoner insisted.

"You took it from their safe." Steve reminded. "It is imperative that."

Garvin shook his head.

"You are here." Steve explained in a consoling voice. "Alexi, you may die."

McGarrett walked over to the window and stared unseeingly through the blinds as he considered his next step. Garvin was suddenly not co-operating and Steve wondered what he must do to bring the man back to trusting him. After a few moments he returned to the prisoner and looked down at him. "Damn." He swore under his breath. "He's coming out of it."

Garvin shifted ever so slightly in the bed.

"Doc?" Steve asked. "Can you give him something?"

Saprestien looked up at the mention of his name. He had momentarily drifted from the conversation and had to struggle to recall what Steve had just said to him "Steve I." He hesitated. "He's not my patient. I can't just..."

"He just became your patient." McGarrett informed. "I'll do the paperwork when we get finished. "Come on Doc, I need another twenty minutes at most. Surely you can see how important this is."

Saprestien cringed at the thought of being responsible for this man.

Steve misinterpreted the expression as being reluctant to help.

"Your transfer ought to be completed by the time he's well enough for prison. You'll never have to go back to Japan." Steve bargained. "You can start moving into your own jungle apartment today." He grinned. "Come on. Just a little something to keep him buzzed."

"Well." Saprestien resigned himself to the situation. "If he were in any pain, I could see my way to giving some Demerol. You know what that did for you."

"Deal." Steve stated and promptly punched Alexi in the stomach.

Garvin screamed.

"Shut up." McGarrett yelled in Russian. "This is not your concern." Steve then turned around to face a shocked Saprestien. "Is that enough for the Demerol or should I let Glen hit him too."

"You don't gotta ask me twice." Anderson said as he nearly leaped out of the wheelchair. The pain he felt as he stood on his injured leg served to anger him further as he slugged the Russian. "There Doc." Glen announced with a sadistic grin. "Now he's really hurting."

Steve gave Anderson a look of sympathy as he watched his friend gingerly return to his seat.

"Spaseeba Alexi!" Glen spat. "That felt good."

"OK OK." Saprestien interrupted. "Don't kill him. Give me a minute."

The physician left the room as Nurse Parker entered carrying a tray that contained several styrofoam coffee cups.

"Is he talking?" She asked excitedly and set the tray on the table beside the bed.

"I may have to change my opinion of you after all." Steve smiled as he picked up one of the cups and chugged the semi-warm contents. "He's been quite chatty."

On returning to his seat on the end of Alexi's bed Steve clipped his leg against the back wheel of Glen's chair. Alexi was unaware of the coffee landing on him.

"Woah." Glen exclaimed as he jerked on the back of Steve's belt.

Parker instinctively slid in between the bed and Anderson, grabbed hold of her patient and redirected his momentum onto the bed. _Whew!_ She sighed to herself in relief. _Incident report avoided._

"Steve?" Glen asked in concern.

"Yeah." He replied as he sat upright on the bed. "There's no way it could be broken. Half the bone's steel. It's not possible."

"I'll be the judge of what is and isn't possible." Doris stated as she knelt to push up his pant leg. "Oh geez." she whistled upon seeing the raised reddish discolored area that surrounded a tiny laceration. _How could they miss THIS in the ER last night?_ She asked herself. "I wouldn't lay any money on that Commander. Doesn't it hurt?"

"I was too busy to think about it." Steve replied.

"The doctor'll be back in a minute." She promised. "He'll order an x-ray. Then we'll know for sure."

"Not until I'm finished with Alexi." Steve replied stoically as he pulled his right leg up and leaned forwards against his knee. "Mood he's in he'll probably make me run the whole way down there."

"I doubt that." She dismissed. "He was praying that the louse would die on the table."

"Really?" Steve raised an eyebrow in her direction. "Then how come he's busting my butt about the Demerol?"

"Little thing called The Hippocratic Oath. Same thing that'll make me take care of him. We don't have to like it. But" She grinned "No where in the Nightingale Pledge or the UCMJ does it say that I can't pull tape off if it's stuck to chest hair. And this one's a monkey. I foresee alot of dressing changes for him."

"Poor Alexi." Steve laughed. "You really are sadistic, you know that."

"Funny." She retorted with a stern glare though inwardly she smiled radiantly.

Doc returned to the room with a syringe and injected its contents into the IV tubing.

All in the room watched as the prisoner began to doze off from the Demerol.

"Alexi?" Steve whispered as he reapproached the prisoner. "Alexi....darling." He called softly.

The man moaned quietly.

"Alexi." McGarrett continued. "How are you going to transfer the information?"

The Soviet agent remained silent. It was uncertain if it was because of the drug or that he had decided not to speak any longer.

"Alexi, my comrade." Steve repeated as he firmly grasped the man's left upper arm. "This is serious. Alexi I'm afraid you may not make it. You must get your information across."

Alexi remained silent though, at the thought of dying, a small tear formed in his right eye.

"Tell me Comrade." Steve continued to press. "Tell me now and I will help you." He finished the sentence in Russian.

The prisoner stirred slightly but still did not respond to the question.

"Comrade! Tell me now!" Steve ordered and slapped the prisoner across the face. "Have you become one of those capitalistic pigs that you detest so much?"

"Dah...No..." The man protested. "I am loyal to the Rodina."

"Sure you are." Steve scoffed. "You have been seduced by the West."

"Bortzoff.' Garvin pleaded. "I must contact Bortzoff."

"Bortzoff?" Steve's eyes narrowed in concentration. The name sounded so familiar but he could not place where he had heard it. _Who the hell's Bortzoff?_ Steve tried to force his memory.

"Oh my God." Steve leaped to his feet and almost collided with Glen's outstretched leg.

The commotion brought Saprestien out of his concentration.

"Hargrove..." Steve exhaled as he sat back down. "Foggarty. In my quarters there's a file from DC labeled Rustic....

The young ensign, eager to please, stood up from his seat in the window. "Sir?" He questioned.

"Rustic....Damn." McGarrett banged the end of the bed in frustration. "Why can't I remember the name. Three lousy words."

"Short term memory lapse." Doc reassured as he squeezed his way into the narrow space next to Steve on the edge of the bed. "Its part of the skull fracture. Calm down. Getting excited will only make it worse. There's no permanent brain damage."

"Winter." Steve stated. "Rustic Winter Moon."

"There." The MD replied as he slapped him on the leg. "Few months it'll go away."

"I hope so." Steve exclaimed.

With a half grin Saprestien stood up off the bed and returned to his position against the wall.

"Foggarty. In there there's a photograph of..." He hesitated as he tried to remember what it was he had wanted. Never mind, just bring me the whole file."

"Sir?" The ensign questioned. "Files are supposed to remain in the office."

In spite of the situation Steve had to laugh at the man's naivete.

"I tried to take one to The Garden." He continued. "Lieutenant Jenkins caught me."

"You gonna bust me Ensign?" McGarrett laughed as he held his hands out in front of himself. "If you can get the cuffs on, I'm yours."

Foggarty wisely ignored the challenge. "I just want to know how. That's all."

Anderson let out an amused laugh.

"One day I'll teach you." Steve promised. "It's either on my coffee table or in my briefcase. Maybe on the deck. Hurry up before the Demerol wears off."

Foggarty hastily left the room to complete his errand.

"Steve." Glen asked with a curious look on his face. "What's going on?"

"Dean Hargrove might not be as nuts as everyone thinks." Steve replied.

With Foggarty gone there was a lull in the room. McAdams took advantage of the opportunity and exchanged the nearly empty tape for a fresh reel. He carefully labeled the box from which it came and stacked it on top of the pile of used tapes.

Ten minutes later the chubby ensign ran into the room carrying a dark brown manila envelope. "Here Sir." He stated between gulps of air. "This it? On the kitchen counter."

Steve opened the envelope and extracted an eight by ten-inch black and white photograph. "Alexi." He called shaking the prisoner. "Time to wake up again."

The Russian moaned his protest.

"Comrade." He asked as he held the photo within inches of the man's face. "Is this him? The man you contact?"

"Dah." The prisoner acknowledged. "I must send him a yellow plumeria lei from The Flowershak on Berritanna......" He trailed off.

McGarrett shook the prisoner awake.

"He will meet in the bowling alley on Hotel Street. Sunday 1300. I do love this American game." He mumbled.

"He will know I am not you." Steve prompted. "What is the code phrase?"

"Comrade please..." The hyperventilating prisoner pleaded.

"Just this Alexi. Then we are finished." _For now. _He thought sadistically

"Wear a red shirt. Japanese beer and vodka.Tell him you are Peter from South of Minsk. You went to school together. Remind him he failed geometry."

"Go to sleep Alexi." McGarrett stated as he switched off the tape recorder and turned towards McAdams and Tomlich. "You two get all that?"

Ensign Tomlich looked up from his yellow notepad and nodded.

Steve wanted to pace the floor in order to clear his mind but the crowded room and the annoying discomfort in his left leg precluded such a luxury. He knew that except for Glen and Fitzsimmons the officers in his section were too inexperienced for a mission of this type, yet they deserved to be in on the capture. "By the end of watch tomorrow I want everything there is to know about both places. Pictures, diagrams, floorplans, the works. Bring in Jenkins." He snapped his fingers in concentration. "Foggarty you too. And tell Bill to call me when he gets a chance. Come up with a plan for taking this guy. Glen and I'll go over it when our friends get in. We've got a couple days yet to refine it."

A quiet moan from the prisoner caused Steve to glance over. "Oh. And set up the flower thing." He added. "Where's the psych ward from here?" Steve asked as he stood up from the bed.

"Second floor." Nurse Parker informed. "But it's a locked unit. Commander they won't let you in with out a good reason."

"I've got one." McGarrett argued. "I've got to tell Dean about Bortzoff."

"Steve?" Glen asked as he grabbed the back of Steve's shirt in order to get his attention. "You think that's a good idea?"

"We held on to less in The Cave." Steve reminded. "I lasted two weeks in the box on a promise that Roger'd let me win a chess match. Which of course he never did. This just might turn him around."

"You're right about that." An involuntary tremor surged through Glen at the thought of North Korea. "He'd never let me win either." Anderson adjusted himself in the seat of the chair. "Say hi to Dean for me."

"McAdams, loan me your keys." Steve asked.

Jerry set aside the tape reel he was labeling and tossed the lockpick kit from his pocket at Steve.

"Where do you think you are going?" Doc demanded.

"Visiting a friend." Steve retorted as he caught the flying object and shoved it into his back pocket. "Doc can you get in there?"

"The mental Health Unit?" Saprestien scoffed. "Fort Knox would be easier."

McGarrett shot the physician a warning glare.

"Steve." Saprestien explained. "They keep patients isolated for three weeks. No family, no friends. That's standard procedure."

The determined look on McGarrett's face told the MD that he was not convincing him of anything. "Come on. I'll take you down to X-ray myself." He promised. "You can even look at the films if you want."

"It'll wait. This is more important." McGarrett replied.

"If Nurse Parker is correct. And she seems the type to be." Doc reminded. "Then you won't get that far."

"Hey." Glen interceded. "Let him go. Last time he ran half way across North Korea on it."

"And how long did it take to heal then?" Doc challenged.

Both men glared daggers at the physician's interference.

When McGarrett turned towards the door Saprestien knew that nothing he could say would deter the man's actions. The only way Steve McGarrett would learn this lesson, like so many others, would be by falling on his face.

"Alright.' Saprestien surrendered. "But I'm going with you."

"What ever it takes." Steve retorted and exited through the door. 


	8. Chapter 8

The distance from Garvin's room to the elevator was not far, perhaps a hundred fifty feet at most, but to McGarrett it seemed much farther. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the diminutive shadow which had been following him ever since he left the interrogation. Although he knew who it was and trusted that person it didn't change the fact that he felt uneasy being followed. Doc Saprestien, who had insisted that he come along to help out, couldn't help but watch in sympathy as McGarrett slowly limped his way down the corridor. As he approached the vacant nurse's station he saw a stethoscope lying on the desk and paused long enough to lean over the counter to secure the object before he continued towards the elevator. 

Curious as to why he needed a stethoscope Saprestien asked, "What on Earth do you want that for?"

"Combination locks." McGarrett answered as he leaned on his arm tiredly against the wall. . "Never know what you might need on a mission. He added with a grin. "I've always been accused of being overprepared."

Saprestien shook his head in disbelief and followed Steve into the elevator for the brief ride to the floor where Dean Hargrove's room was located.

Leaning against the side of the car Steve pushed the button for the second floor. . A few moments later the doors opened and both men stepped out into the dreary yellow ceramic tiled hallway and looked around.

Saprestien gestured for a right turn towards a pair of maple colored heavy wooden doors.

Steve had to stand his full six-foot-two-inch height in order to peer through a small circular window into the seemingly deserted hallway. Cautiously he put his weight against the door, it didn't move. A forceful jerk of the handle proved that the door was indeed locked.

Saperstein had come along with reservations "You don't actually think you are going after this Bortzoff guy yourself are you?" Doc asked. "Why don't you let those other guys handle it."

"Who? Foggarty!" Steve exclaimed but tried to keep his voice down. "Bortzoff would spot him in a minute he'd go to ground and we'd never catch him." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "This is a real bad SOB. He'd probably kill Foggarty before he even knew what hit him. Those guys aren't ready for anything this serious." Steve looked down at the physician. "It'll take somebody with field experience. Bill is running the office while Heinriche is with the top brass, that leaves just Glen and I. which one of us runs faster."

Saprestien surveyed the man before him then retorted, "The way you're limping, I'd say it would be a toss up."

"Stick to medicine Doctor!" Steve shot back with a hard glare and an ever-harder tone of voice. "When Alexi doesn't show up for the meet with Bortzoff he's going to be on edge. And he'll want to verify the cover agent, which means he'll probably run the meet in Russian and that disqualifies Glen."

"Surely there's got to be someone else who speaks the language." Saprestien suggested as he tried to reason with his patient.

" Tomlich can order a bowl of borscht and ask for directions to Lenin's Tomb." Steve replied punctuating the lack of experience.

"Not very useful." Doc conceded realizing that apparently Steve was probably the only one that could accomplish this.

Steve studied the lock while Saprestien nervously scanned the hallway. "Set up work for this will be good training for them. He said lessening the edge on his voice just a little, "When Ron and Roger get here, we will come up with something." He resolved and produced a lock pick kit from the back pocket of his pants.

"You're serious." Doc exclaimed when he saw Steve unzip the kit. "It'll never work. We'll be caught for sure." And again looked over his shoulder and scanned the hallway.

"It'll work." Steve replied assuredly with a hint of exasperation in his voice and inserted the picks and began to work the lock. "Trust me, I've broken into a few places and lived to tell about it. This is child's play by comparison." With one last twist of the pick an audible click could be heard. As he turned the doorknob a sly grin grew on his face and couldn't help but chuckle at the amazed look on Saprestien's face as he pushed open the door. "Welcome to your first covert op Doc." McGarrett chuckled as he shoved on the door."You want a cyanide capsule before we go on?" He teased as he replaced the picks to the kit, zipped it closed and pocketed it.

Despite his apprehension of being caught in an unauthorized area the physician managed a slight grin at the offer. Steve had been joking about the capsule but Doc had seen many spy movies and took it seriously.

McGarrett turned and whispered to Saprestien as he inched the door open. "OK, just do exactly as I do unless I tell you different." Steve pushed the door open wide enough to slide through the opening then flattened himself against the wall near the corner.

Saprestien, in spite of his misgivings, found himself beginning to enjoy the thrill of sneaking into the locked ward as he quickly followed Steve into the corner.

Despite the late hour, the main hallway was brightly lit much to McGarrett's disliking. As he scanned the hallway there were numerous doors that didn't have any names on them, which made it difficult to determine which one Dean was in.

"OK Doc," Steve whispered as he ducked back into the corner as he saw a nurse crossthe far end of the hallway. "Where would they put him?"

"Probably close observation," Saperstein replied as he began to relax some, "that'd be one of the rooms right across from the nurse's station. Unless they still have him in the lock down area. How long ago was he brought in?"

Steve thought back to that night which seemed like a lifetime ago. "Four days." He replied.

Saprestien clicked his tongue as he considered the time factor. "That's pushing it. How was he the last time you saw him?"

McGarrett stepped back into the corner from his reconnaissance for patrolling nurses and looked at the physician and answered. "Crying like a baby."

"But was he still intent on killing himself?" Doc demanded.

"He handed me the gun." Steve repliedwith hope quite evident in his voice. "That should count for something."

"It's a good sign." Doc replied in agreement as he peered around the corner and added. "Try across from the nurses station first."

Steve began to feel better about his friend as he chanced another look into the hallway, the four nurses on duty had gathered around the chartrack. Each one had a cup of coffee and crumb cake on a paper napkin in front of them and were slumped slightly in their chairs.

"They'll be there for a while." Saprestien commented as he watched their activity for a moment.

"We need a diversion then." McGarrett decided and grabbed hold of Doc's arm and drug him into a nearby supply room.

Inside the room McGarrett observed there were shelves lining the walls and several small carts in the middle of the room. "Has to look like an accident." Steve informed as he removed several heavy cases of IV solution from the top shelf and carefully set them aside. The shelf was a piece of dry three-quarter inch pinewood. With a quick left-handed chop Steve split the shelf. . Just in case the breaking wood may have aroused attention from the nurses, he opened the door slightly and peeked out and scanned the hallway. Fortunately no one heard the noise and the corridor remained empty. "All clear." He commented as he closed the door. 

Saprestien eager to display his martial arts skills, followed suitand chopped the shelf that was next to him.

Steve watched the wood break in amazement but rememberedthat Frank had told him that Saprestien had 'judoed' Heinriche previously. But this was the first time he actually saw the physician in action and did not realize the man's talent. "Woah." he grinned. "Anything you say Doc."

The physician smiled broadly at the intended compliment as he pushed his supply cart over to where McGarrett stood and on the count of three both men tipped over the carts and tossed the IV cases on top of the clutter. Metal bedpans clattered to the floor and glass bottles shattered on impact creating an exceedingly satisfactory amount of racket. Betadine solution formed a brown river as it spread across the floor to join the growing puddle of rubbing alcohol.

Steve dragged Saprestien out of the room and across the hall into a small waiting room just as one of the nurses came out into the hallway to investigate the racket.

Ltjg Joyce Ruggles reached the supply room ahead of her less athletic co-workers opened the door and stared in horror at the mess before her. Two other nurses quickly joined her as they exchanged curses at their misfortune of knowing that they would have to clean up the mess. LtCdr Wiems, who in addition to an addiction to chocolate smoked a pack of cigarettes a day, wheezed over the shoulders of her staff as she too looked into the room.

While the women assessed the damage to the contents of their supply room Steve and Doc were able to slip out of the waiting room and make their way to the nurse's station. McGarrett quickly scanned the circular rack until he found the chart with Hargrove's name on it. He extracted the beat up aluminum clipboard and glanced at the number at the top. "216" He declared and handed the chart to Saprestien. "Make yourself useful. Read this for me."

Dr Saprestien thought about the breech of confidence he was about to commit as he located a chair and started to sit in order to read. But he was interrupted when Steve grabbed him by the sleeve and jerked him across the hall and into Dean's room only to instruct him to stand in the far corner of the room, "Stay here," He gestured with open palms. "I don't know how he'll take you."

"He's probably drugged Steve." Saprestien said as he took his place in the corner as instructed. "He might not appreciate you too much either."

"Relax Doc. I've seen this before." Steve replied sadly. "Too many times." Then slowly approached Dean's bed and whispered. "Hargrove?" The only response he got was a sleep-filled moan. "Dean." He whispered again, this time a bit louder and gently shook his friend's shoulder; Hargrove rolled onto his back and cautiously opened one eye and slowly focused on who was standing next to his bed. "McGarrett...?" He muttered as he slowly began to recognize his visitor. "Why are...." He murmured groggily as he sat up in the bed rubbing the sides of his head.

"Dean." Steve said in a sympathetic voice. "I've got something to tell you."

"Wait a minute." Hargrove said in an anxious tone cutting Steve off as he shook his head not believing that his friend was there, "You're not real. He turned to stare at the man before him. "Are you?"

Steve started to reply but in one swift movement Hargrove quickly leaped from the bed and swung his fist which made contact with the side of McGarrett's head. The force of the punch knocked him backward onto the freshly waxed tile floor and slid to a halt at Saprestien's feet. 

Doc reached down to assist his patient off the floor. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yeah." McGarrett nodded as he staggered to he feet and leaned against the wall rubbing his chin, "When this is over he's gonna pay for that one."

Hargrove's loose fitting hospital issue white pajamas sagged so from his body that they nearly fell off. He stood hunched over holding his throbbing hand and mumbled incoherently to himself as Steve tried to approach again although this time with caution.

"Hargrove." Steve demanded as he approached him still rubbing at his chin. "What the hell was that for?"

Steve saw such an inner torment in Dean's eyes that for a moment was uncertain whether he should proceed. This man was the control agent for a Soviet KGB officer that had been planted deep within the US military. Were there more? If so how many and what information had been compromised? It was imperative that Bortzoff be located. McGarrett's mind still reeled at the thought that he had came within hours of being replaced by an imposter himself. The need for information about Bortzoff's movements convinced him that regardless of the outcome, he had to question his friend.

"Steve! You are real." Hargrove cried as he finally recognized his friend. In two long strides he crossed the room and clung to McGarrett's left shoulder and began crying uncontrollably.

Dean's weight on Steve's already weakened body threw him off balance enough to where the only option he had was to go to the floor.

"Steve." Hargrove sobbed as he continued to hold on to McGarrett's shoulder, the look in his eyes was one of a man on the brink of insanity. "Why didn't you let me do it?" and wiped his runny nose with his sleeve. "That bastard's in my head. I can't get rid of him."

Steve gently removed Hargrove's arms from around him and sat up against the wall as Dean curled up on the floor and began to whimper as if he were a child. As he sat there watching his friend Steve wasn't sure if this information would hurt more than help. But he had a spy to catch and in order to do so some hurt had to be inflicted. "Bortzoff's not only in your head Dean," He said hesitantly in a flat tone, "the bastard's in Honolulu too."

Not certain of what he heard Dean stopped crying and slowly looked up at Steve. "What?" He uttered as he straightened himself out and looked at his friend with uncertainty in his eyes

"Bortzoff's in Honolulu." Steve said again definitively.

Hargrove's eyes grew wide in shock as he brought himself to a sitting position and stared at Steve in disbelief.

" He's the control for a deep planted mole." Steve stated and then saw Hargrove shudder from an involuntary tremor. "I just finished sweet talking the mole." 

Dean sighed despondently and hung his head between his knees. As he sat there his mind was flooded with all the feelings that had accumulated over recent weeks. Including those that he feared that had lost everything, embarrassment over almost killing himself because of that monster and cravings for some kind of normalcy in his life, a life he wasn't sure he could ever have again. Damn that Bortzoff, he swore to himself, his life was in ruins because of that man.

"Dean."Steve said intruding on Dean's reflections. "you must have seen Bortzoff someplace recently. Where was it?"

"He's here!" Dean cried as his fear increased dramatically. "Don't let him get me!" He pleaded and slumped back to the floor curling himself back into a ball and began sobbing.

McGarrett sighed as he looked at his friend, as long as he had known the man he had been the ultimate practical joker. Now he was an emotional wreck. Sobbing uncontrollably and fearful of the tormentor that had ripped him apart. He couldn't help but reflect on his own recent flashbacks which had proven to be a result of a combination of drug toxicity and his still bruised brain's way of recognizing Gordov/Garvin. If they had of continued for much longer, Steve couldn't help but wonder if he would have ended up just like Hargrove. There couldn't be a worse Hell on Earth than to spend the rest of his life reliving that one fateful North Korean day over and over again. A scream from Hargrove snapped him from his thoughts.

"Dean. " Steve began as he tried to console his friend and grasped Hargrove's trembling shoulders, "please relax. Bucharest is over, long ago. He's not going to hurt you ever again."

"Please Dean," Steve said quietly, "This is important. Where was Bortzoff?"

Dean's eyes grew wide with terror. "No!" He cried. "You don't want to find him Steve, he's the devil!"

"Hargrove, please." Steve whispered. "You're safe, there's no way he can get in here."

Dean pulled his legs up closer to his body. "You did," he replied looking for assurance in Steve's eyes, "he's just as crafty."

"Dean." Steve placed his hand on his trembling shoulder tried to calm his friend. "I promise I won't let him near you. Now come on, think! Where did you see him?"

Hargrove stopped his crying for the moment and carefully sat up and muttered in a voice that sounded just as lost as the man was saying it. "Downtown."

"That's a big area." McGarrett commented in reply.

Hargrove leaned forwards and held his head in his hands again. He really wanted to trust Steve because they had been friends for many years, but in his demented mind he also wondered what the man was thinking. Was Steve working for Bortzoff and this was all a hallucination? Should he talk?

McGarrett grabbed Dean by the shoulders shattering his self-agonizing session and from a half-kneeling position shoved him against the end of the bed "Suck it up Lieutenant!" He yelled and glared into Hargrove's eyes. "You're bigger than this. Now think. Where was Bortzoff?"

Saperstein looked up from the medical record he had been reading at the curt sound of McGarrett's voice and watched the two men for a moment before returning to his attention to the chart. 

McGarrett's abrupt change in tactics shocked Hargrove out of his mood. Which is worse... A maniacal bastard like Bortzoff or a pissed off McGarrett. Hargrove couldn't help but laugh to himself at the thought; there was really no comparison as he ran his fingers through his rumpled hair "Yes Sir!" He replied with moderate conviction.

For the first time since he entered the room Steve relaxed. "OK Dean." He smiled and sat down on the floor beside his friend. "Where'd ya see him?"

"Everywhere." Dean replied shakily. "The yacht harbor…."

"Outside the Ala Wai restaurant?" Steve asked for the sake of clarification 

"Yeah." Dean answered. "When I looked again, he was gone. Ruined my mood so bad that the girl I was with never called me back. Ever do that? Catch a glimpse of something and it sends your mind to the last place you'd ever want it to go?"

"Oh yeah!" Steve admitted. "Hundreds of times. But I don't let it carry me to extremes."

"That's just it." Dean replied. "I don't.... Guess I should say didn't now." And gestured around the room. "I dismissed it as my overactive imagination. Then I saw him again."

"Where?"

"By the police station." Dean said. "Bill and I stopped by there on our way to the beach, Bortzoff was across the street getting into a black Lincoln. And before you ask, no I didn't see the plates."

Steve was barely able to suppress his growing excitement of a lead to Bortzoff's location and the possibility of getting an unbiased description. "Did Fitzsimmons see him too?" He asked.

"No. I didn't say anything to him about it. I didn't want him to think I was cracking up." Dean answered with a laugh. "Funny huh?"

"Not really." Steve sighed in agreement.

"After that I saw him all over," Dean went on, "Hotel Street, the theater on Kalakaua. Even saw him in the Bishop Museum one time."

"All good places for a meet." Steve concluded as he unconsciously rubbed at his sore chin again. "Did you see anyone with him?"

"No. Once, maybe. I don't know." Dean replied in frustration.

"Dean." McGarrett said as he turned to face his friend. "Think. Please. I need all the help I can get to find this son of a bitch."

"I am thinking Steve." Dean replied as he wearily rubbed his face. "About the only place I didn't see him was The Russian Tea Room."

How many black Lincoln's could there possibly be in Honolulu? Steve thought as he considered calling his friend Corporal Duke Lukela at HPD again but decided that a records search would take too much time. He thought back to the trip he'd made once to the University of Illinois and the computer room he had seen in the Pentagon. Pity the military can't share its 'secret weapon' with local law enforcement agencies. The enigma machine, roughly the size of a portable typewriter, was a computer in a way. To be able to carry a computer in your briefcase and communicate anywhere in the world. Nah never happen. He dismissed.

"Steve!" Hargrove exclaimed as he suddenly grabbed hold of McGarrett's shoulders. "If he's here, then I didn't hallucinate...." Steve had pushed the man's arms off him and was leaning forwards holding his right arm as Dean sighed in relief. "I'm not going nuts." A faint glimmer of hope grew in his eyes as he stared at McGarrett. "Steve get me out of here.".

"Dean." McGarrett said as he briefly gave his friend a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "You tried Colt Stew remember? Now come on."

"Oh lord." Hargrove sighed as he remembered that night he tried to kill himself and cradled his head in his hands again and attempted to apologize. "Steve I..." He started to say.

"It's not a big deal." Steve said as he tried to reassure the man. "If I'd of seen Tang again back in '52 I might have done something crazy too."

Dean's mood became very subdued as he stared at the floor. "No, you wouldn't have."He ran his fingers through his hair again and hesitated before he spoke. "Steve, I've never seen you chip let alone crack."

McGarrett leaned back against the end of the bed and briefly closed his eyes. "Dean I..." He swallowed hard at the thought of what he was about to reveal but plunged ahead. "You tell anyone this and I'll haunt you for the rest of your life. "While I was being held prisoner in Camp 5, I almost….. I gave up for a couple of days. Hang on to that."

Hargrove's greenish-blue eyes no longer held their desolate expression when Steve looked over at his friend. "You're OK." He stated again this time with conviction. "And I'll see to it that a Swiss cheese copy of this case falls into the headshrinkers hands."

"Will it ever go away?" Hargrove asked.

Steve hesitated before he answered. "No, not entirely. But most of the time, you forget about it. Back at Pak's Place they had what we called the caskets. Three by six-foot prefab steel boxes. If we didn't pay close enough attention during the indoctrination lectures, the commies would put us in one to correct what they called our 'hostile attitude'." Steve felt his chest tighten at the memory. "And you know how hostile I can be sometimes."

A very brief grin crossed Dean's face when he remembered all the times Steve was less than hospitable.

"Needless to say, I spent a lot of time boxed." Steve added. "After we escaped; I couldn't be inside a building more than a couple hours at a time."

Hargrove sat up and turned towards his friend. "But you're OK. Right?"

"Yeah." Steve sighed. "Most of the time the walls leave me alone." He saw the raised eyebrow on Hargrove's face and added. "Why do you think my desk is the one by the window."

"Rank hath its privileges." Dean stated with a slight break in the flat tone.

McGarrett chuckled, "That too. Every time you've been at my house, you ask why I've fixed up the deck like I did. I spend more time there than in my living room. Remember that time we were stuck in the elevator?" Not one of my better moments. Steve thought.

Dean remembered the incident too and couldn't conceal the smile that was working its way onto his face, "Yeah, Glen was yelling down from the floor above and you were cussing the maintenance crew about missing a hot date. I'd wait a few hours any day before I'd rappel down three floors in an elevator shaft. No matter who the woman was waiting for me."

"Yeah. You did." Steve stated. "Gloria's potential wait had little to do with it. I'm claustrophobic."

Hargrove stared in amazement and stammered. "What?.. Steve… you're..."

Steve wiped his hands on his pants and took a deep breath. He could feel his chest tighten at the memory.

Was he anxious from that or because self-revelation was difficult for him. Dean was not a close friend in the way that Frank and Glen were in fact Steve doubted very much if anyone would ever be that close. Frank was his first real friend. Although at the time he thought it a misery to be endured he now realized that the years at Annapolis were probably the best times of his life and Frank was a part of that time. Glen on the other hand came out of the worst hell that anyone could experience. Steve considered Frank his brother but a brother that spent most of the war in a stateside office. Glen understood him in a way that Frank never could; they were literally blood brothers. Steve's mind was wandering off into deep places again; he quickly exhaled and forced himself to focus on Hargrove.

"What the crash did to me was nothing compared to not being able to get outside for three months. Most of the time I felt like my heart was going to explode.

Dean continued to stare at Steve in disbelief of what he was hearing, Steve McGarrett claustrophobic? He would have never guessed.

"Why do you think Glen drags us half way around the globe." Steve continued his impromptu lecture. "And never gripes when he gets stuck on the courier route. That's because he can't be in one place too long. In fact this posting is the longest he's remained anywhere. Not that anyone would willingly leave Hawaii." As they talked he noticed the near casual turn their conversation had taken. Dean seemed almost like his old self. No doubt he was thinking about how his friends were going to react to him now.

Hargrove leaned back against the bed and sighed to himself.

Steve went on to show Dean in an effort to comfort him that everyone has some kind of idiosyncrasy. "Tell Roger his watch is fast and he has to call the Naval Observatory to find out what time it is. Now Ron is the opposite of me, he can't be outside too long." The last time Steve had met with Ron in San Diego they had argued over seating arrangements. It ended up with them at a table next to the veranda with Steve facing the windows. He grinned at the memory and continued. "He won't even go to an outdoor restaurant if he can avoid it."

Dean rolled his head from side to side against the metal bed in an effort to release tension.

"I know a dozen guys who sleep with a loaded pistol under their pillow." McGarrett went on. "Morgan won't teach SCUBA in anything but the open ocean even though we've got the deep pool. He gave up recruit training, pretty good post for a Chief, to come out here. I've never asked him about it but I know why." I first met him in Seoul,

" Chief? He's the most level-headed person in the office." Dean dismissed.

"Trust me on this. He's got a reason. This guy I was stationed with in Tokyo freaks out if he hears a bugle."

"Kinda hard to avoid one of those in the military." Hargrove laughed.

"Yeah." Steve sighed in relief when he saw some more of the old Dean break through. "Something is going to come out of this; but Dean you're all right."

Hargrove stood up and stared at the metal grate that covered his window. "I sure hope so".

"Dean." Steve said in a choked whisper as he floundered around on the floor trying to stand up. "Neither of us is cracking up."

"Thanks, again." Hargrove said as he reached down and pulled his friend to his feet.

"Forget it." Steve replied as he adjusted his balance.

"But Steve…" Dean added, " I know how you are with paperwork. Don't take too long getting the file over here, huh."

"Sure." McGarrett grinned and pointed an accusing finger at the man's chest. "But you ever punch me like that again and I'll let you rot."

Hargrove smiled briefly again. Steve McGarrett was a loyal friend. More importantly though was the fact that the man never lied so the revelations about the other men were true. Dean, if he managed to keep his security clearance, decided that knowledge would help him endure the 'looks' he was bound to get. It was now up to him to prove himself worthy of trust.

"You gonna be Ok in here for a little longer?" Steve asked and when he saw a slight nod continued. "I'm here in the black, so I've got to get out before they find me." He let go of the foot of the bed and turned towards the door.

Dean stood up straight and looked at Steve. "How long are you going to have Bortzoff?"

"I don't know." He shrugged, "long as it takes I guess. Why?"

"I want to see him." Hargrove stated resolutely.

"What!" Steve turned back to face his friend and his eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?"

"I have to." Hargrove replied with determination in his voice.

Steve had over the years gained a fair amount of experience in situations similar to this. He also knew the man's character. His pep talk had taken hold and Hargrove appeared to be sincere in his request. But what effect facing his tormenter at this time would elicit was just too huge of a variable. Steve McGarrett was not a psychiatrist.

"Dean, I don't know about that." He hesitated "You'd better ask the doctors."

"Oh come on McGarrett!" Dean's eyes fired with determination. "These headshrinkers have no idea in hell what that bastard is! You and I, we know how it is, we've been in the field."

"I'll agree with you there." Steve conceded and glanced in Saprestien's direction. " I'll have to think about it." He glanced over to the grated covered window."But you might have to go over the wall."

"That's easy." Dean said with a positive air and a smile. "Paper clip and a roll of tape and I'm out down the firestairs."

Both men couldn't help but laugh at just how easy it would be to escape from the 'secure area'.

"These people really don't have a clue." Dean added after he recovered from laughing.

"Tell me about it." Steve was still laughing when he turned towards the door. "Call us when you get out."

Saprestien followed McGarrett as he left the room and stopped at the nurse's station. He took the chart from Doc and slid it back into the slot where he had removed it earlier. A small grin grew on his face when he saw a roll of white tape lying on the counter. Steve glanced down the hall to see if it was clear then quickly searched the desk until he found a large paperclip and two smaller ones. He pulled back the tape until he had enough to accommodate the metal clips and replaced it onto the roll.

Heads up! He said to himself as he pitched the tape into Hargrove's room before heading for the exit.

Between them and the exit was the supply room where the nurses were still cleaning up the mess that was made earlier for the distraction. Quietly and quickly Steve and Saperstein slipped past the room where the voices inside were disgusted with the fact the mess was so large. Once at the door they found it to be locked from this side too. Steve shook his head in disgust at himself for not realizing that the doors would be locked from the inside also. Removing the lockpick kit from his pocket swiftly opened the door.

Once they were safely outside of the ward and closing the distance to the elevators Steve asked. "Well Doc, what did it say? Is Dean going to be okay?"

"Steve." Saprestien replied apologetically "I never would have guessed that there was anything like that wrong with you. That's why Anderson had such a fit about leaving the window open isn't it?"

"Yeah." Steve nodded impatiently. He really did not feel like talking about this subject again.

"If I had known, I would have found a way to get you outside."

I must have pulled it off to get past Frank AND him. Maybe I should have been an actor. "Don't worry about it, it was a great motivator." Steve dismissed "What was in the record?"

"Nothing much." Saprestien replied. "He passed every psychological test with flying colors. He's not schizophrenic, manic/depressive or a split personality. He loves his mother, doesn't hate his father and has no sexual deviations. His blood alcohol was way over the limit, which you probably knew that night."

McGarrett nodded his agreement as Saperstein continued. "But not enough to be the sole reason. His blood chemistry was a bit out of kilter, which could be caused by not eating and heavy drinking. The diagnosis is exhaustion and acute anxiety."

"Oh boy." Steve sighed. "There goes his clearance."

" There was mention of ' persistent visual hallucinations'. You give the psychiatrist proof that this Russian is real and not imaginary," Saprestien said, "and I would almost bet that he'd discharge your friend within a week."

"Really?" The last bit of information made McGarrett smile. "That'll make me start the paperwork tonight."

Saprestien shook his head in disbelief at what he had coined 'the McGarrett response'. "Steve, the fact still remains, your friend tried to kill himself. And what I saw tonight did not look healthy."

McGarrett dismissed the point Saperstein was trying to make and walked down the hallway. "I've seen worse than that come back."

McGarrett." Doc replied in exasperation at being asked for his opinion only to have it summarily dismissed.

"I knew a guy once who insisted that he was a dog." Steve couldn't help but start to chuckle as he spoke. " Crawled everywhere and barked all night if we didn't shut him up. When he got back, they had to feed him on the floor, and couldn't keep clothes on him for longer than ten minutes. He's a full colonel now and up for a star."

"What so funny about that?" Saprestien asked with a confused look on his face.

"Nothing really." Steve replied with a laugh. "Just...that he's allergic to cats. His name's John C. Spaniel and he's a Marine. Go Bulldogs!" and shook his upheld fist in a cheerleading fashion.

"That's a joke right." Doc answered in an unamused tone of voice.

"No. Its true." Steve explained as the elevators came into view. "He lost his entire platoon at Imjin River. The Chinese had drug what was left of him out of a foxhole. My unit was on a recon when we found him and a couple others in a cage camp waiting to be transported Up North."

Saprestien shrugged his shoulders at McGarrett's apparent denial and followed behind him. To say that the events that Doc witnessed this night were overwhelming would be an understatement. Even after a rotation through psychiatry, he failed to understand why any seemingly normal man would willingly put a gun to his head. He had dealt with a few clinically depressed patients in his practice but a perfectly healthy person choosing to die was something he would never understand.

Saprestien was still deep in thought and nearly ran into McGarrett when he stopped and pushed the elevator call button.

Steve gave the physician a curious stare. What was the little man contemplating now he wondered?

The loud chime signaling the arrival of the elevator snapped Doc back from his thoughts. And when the doors opened both men stepped inside the car.

"McGarrett, why?" Saprestien quietly asked.

"Why what?" Steve replied as he gestured towards the buttons and waited for Doc to push the button.

"Why did he try to kill himself?" Saprestien asked not noticing Steve's gesture and didn't bother to select a floor either.

"A long story." McGarrett answered evasively and tried to reach around the man to get at the floor buttons.

Saprestien's curiosity about Bucharest was not to be deterred.

"Trust me on this. You're better off not knowing." Steve answered with assurance and reached around the man and pushed the button for the fourth floor. The doors slid closed.

"What happened in Bucharest?" Saprestien demanded.

Annoyed at the persistence of the little doctor wanting to know all the dirty details about Dean's experience Steve shouted out, "All right!" He paused momentarily when he realized that he had shouted. "All right Doctor, but don't say that I didn't warn you."

The shorter man nodded that he understood

McGarrett did not like the idea of telling Dean's story, especially to the little physician whom he knew had no concept of the situation that the man had been in at the time. Saprestien hadn't interfered with Dean's interrogation even though he had serious misgivings therefore he was entitled to know something.

McGarrett still had problems with memory recall and although Doc had reassured him that it was temporary he still had his doubts. This, he thought to himself, was something that he would dearly love to forget even though he had no first hand knowledge of the situation, he doubted that even a skull fracture could erase the horror.

"Dean was sent to get an agent out of Bucharest whose cover had been blown. That's a risky job. He had the guy along with the man's wife and baby and was on his way out. Bortzoff had them grabbed off of a train just outside of the city. They were taken to the police station and thrown into a basement cell and were interrogated nonstop for over a week.

"That doesn't sound so bad." Saprestien commented as he leaned in to hear what came next.

"I said nonstop." Steve snapped back then calmed himself. "I won't go into the methods, but it's not pretty. Then Bortzoff just let them go."

Saprestien's eyes were wide with curiosity.

"Oh Dean thought they were escaping but... Bortzoff and his henchmen followed them into a wooded park. He tied the man to a tree with the infant in his arms and forced him to watch his wife being gang raped.

Doc inhaled deeply in anticipated dread.

" After he had his way with the woman he put a shotgun to her head and pulled the trigger. Then he took the baby from the man and gave it to a Spetznaz who climbed a tree and tossed it into the air. Bortzoff blew it away like a clay pigeon then shot the agent in the face. Dean saw an opportunity and ran. He managed to elude the bastards long enough to scale the back wall of the French embassy.

Saprestien felt the strength go out of his legs as he slid down the wall. "My God...what kind of..... No human could..."

McGarrett reached over and pressed the stop button and knelt down beside the physician to see if he was all right.

"I asked. Fair and square didn't I." Saprestien said as he swallowed against the hot bile that was rising in his throat. "How on Earth, do you deal with..."

"Thick emotional walls." Steve replied, "You think I'm a hardass, but that's all it is, just over control."

Doc leaned back against the wall of the car and tried to control his breathing. "You're a pain in the butt that won't listen to reason," He grinned reluctantly. "But with the number of people who called about you while you were in the coma, no, I don't think you're a hardass McGarrett. However Heinriche defines the term."

Steve grabbed the handrail and pulled himself upright. "I heard you decked Heinney for the same thing. I'll admit, I'd love to have seen that. But he's more overcontrolled than all of us put together."

Saprestien sighed deeply then slowly came to his feet and pushed the button for the ground floor.

McGarrett felt the car sink instead of rise towards his fourth floor room. Maybe he would be allowed to go home after all. His mood brightened until a shooting pain in his left knee reminded him that he had agreed to have the leg x-rayed. He doubted very much that there was a fracture but was too tired to resist.

The unfolding of events and revelation that there was a spy in their midst had left Ensign Foggarty unable to sleep. He felt that a quick walk in the cool night air would help him relax. The young man wandered aimlessly through the neighborhood and eventually found himself in front of Tomlich's building. He debated on whether or not to visit his friend because of the late hour, and was about to walk away when he saw the small orange glow of a cigarette beside a palm tree. Tomlich was awake also.

Fogarrty reluctantly admitted that he couldn't sleep either.

Tomlich, having no other explanation for his nocturnal presence, admitted to being bothered as well.

The pair had been given the task of photographing the area where the meet would take place. Tomlich glanced at his watch then stated that it would be sunrise by the time they drove into the city.

Foggarty looked at the baggy pants and faded aloha shirt that he was wearing and decided that he looked civilian enough for the adventure.

Tomlich chuckled nervously and then realized that the reason he was feeling chilly might have more to do with the shorts he was wearing than with potential spies. Suddenly both men realized that they weren't scared at all but excited at what Tomlich pointed out as their first mission that didn't involve schlepping something from office to office.

Foggarty grinned when his friend pointed out that McGarrett was giving them a huge opportunity; he did not want to disappoint him. Tomlich went inside to put on a pair of pants and retrieve his camera. Foggarty jogged back to his apartment in order to get what he called his Kodak Special and returned in his beat-up Buick.

The two young officers were very thorough in their reconnaissance of the area, having each used two rolls of film on their 'vacation' pictures. Foggarty developed the film and made eight by ten enlargements of the photos in the section's darkroom. The prints were barely dry when Tomlich rushed them over to the hospital where Nicholson snagged them away from him in the hallway and quietly slipped them into McGarrett's room.

Steve couldn't help but chuckle at the image of Foggarty grinning like an idiot in front of the bowling alley. It never ceased to amaze him how careless medical people were with their supplies. He had no dressings on his injuries, yet a roll of white tape had appeared mysteriously on the table. Give them a ship and they'd sink her in a day he thought to himself as he tore off a tiny piece of the tape and used it to adhere the photograph to the wall. When he finished with the rest of the photos in the envelope he sat back on his bed and stared at the gallery before him and tried to visualize the scene. He caught himself doodling a diagram on the back of the envelope that would be most useful, not only for himself but also as an aid during the upcoming planning discussion. The envelope proved to be too small for such drawing, as was the table it rested on. Roger had brought him a China pencil and ruler, which he now used to diagram a block of Hotel Street on the window.

Steve had just finished the drawing and was staring at it when the door burst open and two men entered. Ron laughed at the startled look on his friend's face and positioned Glen's wheelchair at the end of the bed.

"Steve, you manage to choke down this morning's breakfast?" Glen teased as he cautiously lifted his injured leg a few millimeters off the leg-rest and carefully returned it to a straighter position.

"We've had worse." Steve replied absently. As the aroma of fresh tomato sauce and cheese hit his nose he forgot about lines of sight and distant North Korean ghosts. Saliva flowed expectantly in his mouth as he turned toward the two men.

"Mamma Celini's." Glen announced with a grin as he set the pizza box on the end of the bed. "Ron said that Mamma made it special."

Because of his recent hospital captivity, McGarrett knew that the day's lunch menu would feature beef barley soup. There was no doubt in his mind that the slop was going back today untouched as he nearly ran towards the now open box.

"You two eat like this when we got back?" The shorter man laughed as he straddled the chair that he'd dragged from the corner of the room towards the bed.

Glen flicked a piece of green pepper towards Nicholson's chest in response.

"Where's Roger?" Steve asked between bites.

"Coming." Nicholson answered as he removed a slice of pizza from the box. "He's got the kids on the pistol range. That Jenkin's has got talent."

Ron added as he took a tiny bite off the pointed end of the slice. "I had them in the gym last night. Sucker kicked me hard."

"Steve taught him." Glen mumbled as he continued to consume his third slice.

The door creaked its resistance as a tall stocky red haired man shoved it open. "Hey hey!" He called as he waved a cardboard case of chilled coke in greeting. "Hennessey to the rescue."

McGarrett felt a little self-conscious wearing a bright red bowling shirt that had two smiling bowling pins on the back as he walked in to the seedy bowling alley on Hotel Street. He carefully surveyed the room and noted that it was not very crowded for a league night. Judging by the condition of the bowlers Beer Frame was in full swing. The sound of the pins being hit by the weighty balls filled the building. It didn't take him long to locate Bortzoff sitting at the far end of the bar

The bar area was on a six-inch high platform, which encompassed the front 3/4 of the left side of the room. An unreadable sign partially blocked a bank of grease covered tilt-out windows. A three-foot high outline of a kangaroo glowed in red neon above the words OZ BAR.

Steve did a mental double take as he saw the bartender waddle from the back room The woman was huge, in fact Steve couldn't recall ever seeing a woman as large as her in all his life. Her hair appeared to be dirty brown in color, but it was hard to tell for certain in the dim light, and was cropped off above her ears. A Marine barber would have done a better job blindfolded Steve laughed to himself. She wore a grimy navy blue sleeveless dress; the faded and blotchy flower print had one day been yellow. Even from his distance he could hear the slapping sound of her plastic beach sandals as she walked. He also observed that "Gargantua" was in bad need of a bra, he recoiled at the thought of what else she might not be wearing. She tossed the legal pad she had been carrying onto the back of the bar and wiped the perspiration from her forehead with her arm. With her pudgy hand she reached for her favorite Irish Whiskey from the row of bottles, removed the stainless steel pour spout, lifted the container to her mouth and took a large swallow of its contents. After a satisfied belch she replaced the spout and returned the bottle it to its place on the shelf.

The smell of cigar smoke, stale beer and cheap cologne on unwashed bodies was more than overwhelming. If I hadn't of gotten into Annapolis….. A group of slovenly men had congregated at the end of the bar and were guzzling beer and pawing at the waitress. She was nearly as large as the medusa behind the bar but had thin stringy blonde hair that looked like it hadn't been washed in quite some time. The mangy mane hung in matted clumps down the back of her grimy white T-shirt. She wore a once bright pink headband with a plastic flower stuck behind her right ear. In Hawaii, a flower worn on the right side indicated that the woman was not married or otherwise committed. Steve doubted that flower would ever change locations. There were cigarette burns and grease stains on the tight black pants that she wore which barely contained the mounding rolls of flesh. At least this one wore shoes, he thought to himself, as he observed the filthy white tennis shoes with scuffed pointed toes that covered her crusty feet.

Steve remembered the Brooklyn bowling alley where he worked as a boy setting up pins. This could have been my life, he thought to himself as he shook his head in disgust at what could have been. He had to force himself to focus on the case at hand as he continued to scan the room. He saw Ron was in place in the far corner and apparently doing quite well at his pinball machine. Jenkins was busy sweeping in the other corner.

McGarrett's jaw nearly dropped at the sight of Doc and Nurse Parker sharing a pizza at a table in the center of the dining room. What are they doing here! His mind screamed. A furtive glance at Ron was returned with a "what could I do about it!" upwards motion of one eyebrow. He acknowledged the gesture with a quick shrug knowing that there was really nothing he could do about the situation without blowing the mission. He felt for the fake codebook that he had tucked inside his shirt and adjusted it against his side. Except for the unexpected audience everything inside seemed in order. A quick glance out of the corner of his left eye revealed the vindicated Bill Fitzsimmons staggering in the door with his T-shirt hanging out of his pants. The position of the shirt revealed that no one had followed him.

At the far end of the bar sat a middle age man in a white suit and black shirt that was secured at the neck with a red tie. He was of average build and height and except for the garish attire would probably have gone unnoticed. The man's facial features appeared to be Slavic in origin though it was difficult to tell for certain because of the thick moustache and goatee. While the picture tucked inside Dean's file had been of a clean-shaven and much younger man this had to be Colonel Bortzoff. McGarrett approached the bar and ordered a Stoli and Kirin then sat next to the Russian to await his drinks.

"Das vadonya Comrade." He whispered and slid the glass of Japanese beer towards Bortzoff.

"I do not know you." The bearded Soviet insisted and pushed the glass away. 

"Sure you do." Steve grinned. "We were classmates, years ago." He answered in Russian.

Bortzoff's mind raced. He had not seen Gordov at his usual take out restaurant last night and a call from a public phone booth to the man's quarters had gone unanswered. This man was wearing the appropriate clothing and ordered the correct drinks. Something serious must have happened to Gordov for him to send a replacement. The codebook was a major piece of intelligence which could justify the urgency of sending another man. But this man was not one of his other assets. One time Alexi had stumbled into a meet between Bortzoff and a radioman. Why didn't he send Halloween (which was the Amercian sailor's codename)? Whoever this man was he spoke Russian fluently although Bortzoff couldn't quite place the accent. His intestines were knotted in apprehension. "Kiev?" He asked 

"No, no, surely the vodka has not affected you so much that you do not remember Minsk." McGarrett answered thankful that he had taken the time to refresh himself on the subtleties of mood and tense that the language made use of. "Master Gordov's geometry class."

The Russian smiled outwardly though he still remained tense inside. "Ah, yes, my friend." He said as he hugged Steve and carefully frisked him for a weapon at the same time.

"You were almost passed over." Steve reminded as he patted down the stocky Russian in return.

Fitzsimmons wiped the beer off his face with the back of his arm and staggered away from the bar and headed for the bathroom. When he was even with the Steve and Bortzoff, he fell into them purposefully spilling Steve's vodka on the bar as he slid drunkenly to the floor.

From the floor Fitzsimmons had the opportunity to get a look at the lower portion of the Russian's body, and he saw that the man was armed.

"Filthy pig!" Bortzoff exclaimed as he dodged the growing puddle of vodka on the counter and attempted to kick the drunken bum away.

"What's your problem pal?" Steve asked as he pulled the drunk to his feet. A quick tap from Fitzsimmons on his right leg told McGarrett in a pre-arranged signal that the Soviet had a weapon in an ankle holster in addition to the knife in the back of his pants. "Get out of here!" Steve yelled as he shoved Bill away.

Fitzsimmons wiped his face again indicating that the spy had two agents in the street.

The Russian laughed genuinely at McGarrett's actions and began to relax slightly. Had this been some kind of signal? His stomach lurched again. He looked over at McGarrett who was wiping his hands on his pants after having touched the bum. The look of disdain appeared genuine. Bortzoff came to a decision; he would get the codebook from this man and then kill him.

"Let's get out of here." Bortzoff insisted as he gestured toward the door that opened onto Hotel Street. Steve stood beside the bar for several seconds in order to show that he still maintained control in the situation. Bortzoff gave a steel-toothed grin and made a gesture indicating that McGarrett should walk in front of him. Steve smiled back and proceeded to leave the building.

Once Steve was outside Ron and Jenkins sprang into action. They each grabbed an unsuspecting Soviet backup agent and dragged them into the bathroom. Each man was handcuffed to the drainpipe of the grimy sink. Ron grabbed the bottle of Chloral Hydrate that Fitzsimmons had stashed behind the toilet tank and soaked a cleaning rag with it and smothered the two spies into unconsciousness as Jenkins held them down.

Nicholson tossed the rag into a beatup trashcan and carefully washed his hands in the sink while Jenkins used the men's belts to tie their free arm between their ankles. As they exited the restroom Ron grinned at the lieutenant as he placed an 'Out of Order' sign on the bathroom door. "McGarrett always has a way of adding class to his missions." He said as he dusted off his hands, admired the sign then walked away.

Steve stopped in the middle of Hotel Street when he didn't see his 'companion' beside him. Bortzoff stood next to McGarrett as he put on his sunglasses, he did this not to shade his eyes from the searing late afternoon sun but to signal his men to go into the alley. "This way." The Russian growled as he grabbed Steve by the arm and dragged him into the alley.

"Go!" Glen yelled into his radio from his rooftop perch then set the walkie talkie aside and trained his sniper rifle on the back of the Russian's head and held it there, waiting.

Ensign Foggarty rushed from his post as ticket taker in a porno house and grabbed the Russian who was heading out of the Laundromat into the alley. A quick karate chop to the back of the neck and a kick to the head rendered the first Russian agent into unconsciousness. He smiled with pride that he accomplished his first covert mission successfully while he dragged his prisoner to the laundry truck parked nearby.

Ensign Tomlich had to disentangle himself from a prostitute before he could tackle his target as he came out of the Chinese restaurant next to the bowling alley. Quickly he handcuffed his man and dragged him over to the waiting laundry truck. The truck's rear door opened up and a pair of hands grabbed and drug the new prisoner inside. Kicking the door shut Tomlich turned and slapped hands with Foggarty in a celebratory fashion as they ran together towards the alley.

"Let me see it." Bortzoff insisted as he and Steve stopped halfway down the alley.

Glaring warily at the Russian Steve removed the codebook from inside his shirt and handed it over to the man.

"Seems genuine." Bortzoff grunted as he flipped through the pages before placing the book inside his shirt and grabbed the knife that he kept at his belt. "But you do not!" He spat. "Comrade!"

McGarrett quickly dodged the plunging knife then grabbed the man's wrist and brought his arm up into an arm lock then roundhouse kicked him to the ribcage which released the mans grip on the knife. It clanked against the brick wall and fell to the ground. McGarrett gave it a quick kick out of reach. "GIVE IT UP!" He ordered and pulled his own gun out of its ankle holster and pointed it at the man's head.

Bortzoff froze briefly but looked anxiously around the alley for his men. When he didn't see them he eyed his opponent warily, the man didn't flinch a bit. His gaze was ice cold. Again, he surveyed the alley for his men ;it was then he spotted them lying unconscious under a pile of old cardboard.

"OK". Bortzoff replied as he carefully held his arms above his head as best he could and grinned an evil grin. "You've got me cowboy."

"Against the wall" Steve ordered waving his weapon in the desired direction.

Bortzoff slowly turned and stepped toward the wall but kept an eye on his captor. When he saw that McGarrett was within range he moved quickly to grab the gun. He twisted Steve's right arm upwards accidentally discharging the weapon and shoved him against the wall.

Seeing that Bortzoff was getting the upper hand, Roger leaped from behind the nearby dumpster and tackled the Russian.

The rest of the team members converged on the scene from both ends of the alley and completely restrained the Russian spymaster.

Roger removed the handcuffs from his back pocket and slapped them roughly around the Russians wrists turned to Steve and asked as he snapped the cuffs closed "You OK, Steve?"

"Yeah." Steve answered with a groan as he staggered to his feet. "Guess so." He rubbed his upper arm as he bent down to remove the Makarov from the Russian's leg holster. "You got one of these yet?"

Hennessey looked at the pistol in his friend's hand and laughed at the reference to his gun collection. "Come on man. Get me something unusual will ya."

Steve grinned as he stuck the soviet pistol in his belt and retrieved his own weapon and the knife. "Commie pig sticker." He teased and waved the knife in Roger's direction.

"I'll take it if nobody wants it." Glen announced as he limped into the alley.

"You two do OK?" Steve asked the ensigns as he leaned against the wall when he felt a wave dizziness come over him.

"Yes, Sir!" Foggarty grinned as he put an arm around Tomlich's neck. Both young men beamed at the accomplishment of their first mission.

"Good." Steve answered quietly as the alley started to spin. "Mole found. Spy captured. It's over." He closed his eyes and slid down the exhaust soot stained wall slid down and sat on the asphalt and let his head sag between his knees.

"So you think!" The Russian spat as Fitzsimmons and Jenkins jerked him to his feet.

"You boys wanna get the trash." Fitzsimmons ordered the ensigns as he pointed towards the unconscious spys under the cardboard.

"Steve?" Roger asked worriedly when he observed his friend's grayish pallor.

"Let's get out of here." McGarrett replied weakly as he grabbed hold of Roger's outstretched hand and was pulled to his feet.

. The adrenaline rush brought on by the mission was beginning to fade. Anderson became aware of the hot throbbing agony in his thigh. Feeling the limb was about to give out from underneath him he leaned heavily against Nicholsen as the pair brought up the rear of the parade leaving the alley. Ron was still uncertain how he felt about the revelation regarding what had happened in Korea. He had for the most part put that horrible period behind him, or so he thought. Roger, having spent the longest duration in enemy hands wanted to rip Bortzoff's head off. Steve was just relieved that this phase of the mission was over and if he was lucky he would be able to talk Saprestien into letting him sleep in his own bed tonight.

The laundry truck backed into the alley and Chief Morgan opened the rear doors and helped the younger officers drag the heavy unconscious pair of men into the back with the other prisoners.

Bortzoff cursed in Russian as the men dragged him to the entrance of the alley. Fitzsimmons wanted the man to shut up so he gave the man's arm a painful upward tug and growled a promise of continued pressure unless he quieted down. 

Steve and Glen both looked up when the passenger side door of the truck opened, Dean Hargrove jumped out and walked towards them.

When Dean saw Bortzoff standing there, his stomach knotted up and the memories of that night in the Bucharest woods came back to him a vividly as if it had happened yesterday. He had been afraid that the mere sight of the man, who had caused him so much anguish over the years, would cause him a second breakdown but he felt nothing but repulsion. He walked up to the Russian and glared at him for a moment. He clenched his teeth and balled his fists as the memory of the killing of the agent and his family played over in his head. Steve and Glen stood by silently as they watched their colleague confront his tormentor and wondered how he would handle this meeting.

" Who the hell are you?" The Russian sneered at the man in front of him.

Dean's eyes showed the rage he felt as hissed in the man's face. "You bastard!" He snarled. "I hope to live long enough to see you in hell." Dean turned away from the man.

Steve breathed a sigh of relief. The relief was short lived as Hargrove turned on his lead foot and launched a kick at the Russian's chest. Bortzoff's knees buckled and he started to sink to the ground from the impact but the officers jerked him back upright by his arms as their colleague finished his assault with an uppercut to the man's jaw.

The spymaster slumped against his captors for several minutes as he regained his senses and his breath from the blows. "You saw that!" He yelled angrily. "That's assault! Arrest that man!"

Jenkins and Fitzsimmons casually began to examine their fingernails ignoring the raging Russian. Glen and Ron turned their backs a gazed towards the street. Roger stared up at the sky and commented on the appearance of a star.

"It would appear that no one saw a thing." McGarrett said with a slight smile."And just who's going to take the word of an enemy agent who is also a known rapist that slaughtered an innocent infant."

"I never........." Bortzoff screamed, his face turning red from the rage he was experiencing. He had long forgotten about the incident in Romania but knew that he had no options for escape. 

Steve walked over to Hargrove and punched him lightly on the shoulder. "It's a long ways from Bucharest to here." he said grinning icily at the handcuffed man and gestured towards the back of the truck.

"In more ways than one Steve." he replied in a soft voice as he returned to the front of the vehicle. Dean felt a cathartic release at having confronted his demon. While sleep tonight would still come from a capsule he knew that the end to his hellish nightmares was in sight. His psychiatrist's attitude had done a complete turnabout that morning. Dean figured that the Bortzoff file had 'mysteriously' found its way onto the man's desk. God bless McGarrett He thought to himself as he collapsed into the front seat. 

Saprestien slid himself between the open rear van door and the corner of the bowling alley, dropped the burden that he had been dragging inside a grimy tablecloth, onto the pavement and stood watching the turn of events. "So are you boys done playing now?" he said placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head at his patients' activities.

McGarrett started to say something caustic about interference but let it drop as Nurse Parker came out of the bowling alley with an arm lock on the dirty bleached blonde waitress. "You missed this one Commander." She announced pleased with herself as she tightened her grip around the woman's neck.

"Yup." Saprestien grinned as he stepped away from the unconscious Aussie woman at his feet. "I'm starting to like the spy business." "What the…" McGarrett choked back his disbelief when he saw Nurse Parker bring out the waitress. Doc grinned at the two ensigns as they got out of the truck in order to scrape up yet another unconscious prisoner and tossed his medical bag at Chief Morgan who had helped lift the heavy woman into the back of the van.

"Took a whole bottle of Thorazine to sedate her." He laughed.

"Bitch." The waitress, whom she had dubbed Brunhilda, growled as she struggled against Nurse Parker's grip.

"What did you say Dearie?" Doris laughed snidely as she pulled tighter on the woman's neck. Increasing the choke hold brought her close enough to get a fresh whiff of the woman's body odor, " I'm gonna need a surgical scrub to get the smell of you off." 

After you guys took the spies into the head and the bearded one left." Saprestien began to explain how he had gone from curious spectator to spy nabber. "The two women sprang to action. The papers Blondie here was trying to destroy are in my bag. Elephant woman over there was putting through a rush rush call to the Soviet embassy."

McGarrett, although he still felt slightly dizzy, carefully let go of Hennessey and stood up straight. "I don't believe it."

Doc grinned from ear to ear as he pointed towards Nurse Parker. "Doris's grandmother is Lithuanian. She overheard the beginnings of the phone call and figured these two were part of this."

Both he and Parker had been intrigued by 'the spy business' during their part of Gordov's interrogation. He had proposed the possibility of observing the goings on at the bowling alley and Parker readily agreed to pose as his 'date'. After this rather surprising turn of events he now saw Parker in an entirely new light. Would she, he wondered, be interested in seeing him socially?

Steve laughed and winked at Doris. "Looks like we found an owner for the Makarov."

Bortzoff saw in the distraction what he thought was an opportunity for escape and wrenched himself free from the captor's grasp. He took two steps back into the alley before Jenkins grabbed him by his jacket in an attempt to tackle him. The Russian stopped mid stride and with a whipping motion kicked the lieutenant's head sending him stumbling backwards onto the ground.

Roger grabbed the man roughly as Nicholson pushed their prisoner to his knees.

Fitzsimmons lifted the stunned Jenkins to his feet and escorted him into the back of the van.

Chief Morgan situated Jenkins against the van wall and began to assess his condition.

The activity in the rear of the vehicle distracted Hargrove from his ruminations. He quickly crawled from the front, pulled the shrieking waitress into the van and gave Parker an unneeded but nevertheless accepted boost into the back of the vehicle.

"You can't do this!" Bortzoff yelled as he struggled. "I've got dip……" But was stopped mid sentence by a blow to his back.

"Damn!" McGarrett cursed as he realized what the man was saying. He had considered the likelihood that a man in Bortzoff's position would have insured his safety by obtaining diplomatic status. He had gone so far as to order that the photos of the local Soviet embassy's staff be sent to his room. No one in the packet had even remotely resembled Bortzoff. McGarrett felt confident that the man had not availed himself of the protection but now his fears were realized. He would not be able to detain the man longer than the time it would take for someone from his embassy to come and pick him up. IF the state department was wanting to make an issue Bortzoff would be sent home to the USSR. The best that Steve could hope for would be for the Russians to release one of their prisoners in exchange for this one. It galled him that the man would go free.

The bar area was deadly silent when the door to a lower cabinet opened seemingly all by itself and a small blonde head appeared. Peering from the opening impassive eyes slowly scanned the area. Satisfied the place was deserted, the midget stepped out of the cupboard and smoothed the wrinkles from his black suit. The pint-sized man was barely more than three feet tall and wore an expressionless face as he quietly closed the cabinet door. Because his legs were short the best he could do was waddle as he made his way towards the back door.

The midget, who was known only as The Terrier not only because of his size but also for his fierce unyielding personality. The North Korean POW program was of such strategic importance that the Kremlin felt that more than one individual should have control over it. Bortzoff had built the program from day one and his efficient handling of it had impressed Iron Felix. However, the Soviet Apparatchik trusted no one completely, so an overseer of sorts was appointed. The midget was in essence, Bortzoff's boss.

As he walked he reached into his jacket and removed a small custom-made 7.65 Luger and a silencer from his jacket pocket. He screwed the metal tube onto the barrel of his pistol. Shoving the heavy steel door open he stepped out into the alley and saw Bortzoff being dragged away by the Americans. He knew that the man would be interrogated! This could not be allowed to happen. Beside the Russian master spy stood the tall dark haired American agent he had seen inside the bar. Many thoughts rapidly went through the midget's mind as to how he would accomplish his assignment. he would have time for only two shots which meant that logically he could take out just one of them but not both. But which one? The pudgy finger snuggled up against the trigger and his eyes narrowed as he took aim.

Bortzoff struggled against Hennessey's grasp while McGarrett felt his head begin to spin and stepped back in order to lean against the wall. At that instant he saw gravel kick up at his feet and heard what he thought was the sound of a ricochet. Instinctively he looked up to see where the shot could have come from. He quickly surveyed the alley and ended at the doorway to the bowling alley. There were no signs of activity, which caused Steve to dismiss the noise. The Russian was still resisting being drug so his feet most likely he had kicked the gravel. Steve silently berated himself for being paranoid and turned his attention back on the prisoner.

Bortzoff twisted and pulled against Roger's grip trying to free himself from the vice-like grasp. Suddenly he let out an agonizing scream and slumped to his knees. A red spot blossomed on the back of his white jacket.

Gravel chips flew up from ground as a lead slug skipped across the asphalt.

"Get down!" Steve yelled as he flattened himself against the wall.

Nicholson dropped to the ground and rolled out onto the sidewalk. Roger started to drag the wailing Bortzoff to cover as a fourth shot whizzed over his head.

"Roger! You idiot!" Nicholson yelled from his position on the sidewalk. "Hit the deck!"

Hennessey ran towards the street and flattened himself against the wall of Suzi's 24-hour Massage Parlor. Bortzoff was left laying facedown in the alley moaning and whining in agony.

Saprestien turned around and saw the injured man on the pavementWithout thinking he snatched his medical bag from the van and ran towards the patient.

"Doc! No!!" Steve yelled as he whipped his gun from from his belt. "Get back!!"

Saprestien, focusing only on the man lying in the alley, was oblivious to the jeopardy he was placing himself in.

"The bastard's not worth it!!" McGarrett yelled as the physician knelt down beside Bortzoff. As Saprestien attempted to assess the wounded man another bullet skipped its way towards them.

Steve stepped away from the wall and fired three shots down the alley in order to cover Saprestien. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the rear door of the bowling alley close.

The sound of gunfire attracted the interest of the patrons and they filtered out of the bowling alley in order to see what the excitement was about. . The rogues' gallery, which inhabited the more sleazy aspect of Hotel Street, assembled to watch with interest the activity that was taking place in thealley. A man wearing a dirty green aloha shirt gestured that there was a body lying on the pavement a short distance away. The law wanted quite a few of the transient populous for one type of minor infraction or another. The distant wail of an approaching siren sent those in the crowd who were sought by the police scurrying like human rats into the corners and cubby holes of Chinatown.

McGarrett dashed across the alley, grabbed hold of Bortzoff's jacket and helped Doc drag the injured spy out of the line of fire. 

"Why on Earth did you do that!" Steve's eyes gave off an intense glare, which signified that an immediate explanation was expected. Doc, who really wasn't sure himself why he put himself at risk like that, shrugged and shook his head.

Tomlich and Hargrove jumped from the rear of the van, roughly picked up Bortzoff's body and shoved him into the struck.

"Go! Go!" McGarrett shouted as Dean leaped headfirst into the vehicle. The back doors swung wildly as the vehicle made a sharp turn onto the street and sped away 

Saprestien sighed deeply looked skyward and said a silent Hail Mary. His legs felt like they were made of rubber and felt a strange tingling sensation in his body. He sat on the curb and tried to compose himself.

"Get out of here!" McGarrett shouted.

Saprestien felt his stomach lurch. He started to lean forwards when he was jerked to his feet.

"Now!" Steve glared into the physician's eyes as he shouted.

Saprestien mutely bent over, picked up his bag and began walking down the street.

Both Ron and Roger now had their guns drawn and were looking in the direction of the suspicious closed door.

Warily McGarrett gestured towards the alley. Slowly the two men crept into the alley following two steps behind Steve as they approached the door.

Inside the bowling alley the midget stomped around the room in anger, he couldn't believe he had missed the target. Terrier had been the top master spy handler in all of the Pacific Islands for five years and before that he was Stalin's personal assassin. The only three people in Hawaii who knew the midget's identity were now in the hands of the US Navy. Aside from Khruchev and a couple of high-ranking members of the Directorate only Bortzoff knew his real name. Most likely the shot which hit Bortzoff would be fatal but there was no way to be certain of that. He knew that if the man lived it would only be a matter of time before the Americans would be coming for him.

Midget fumed as he stormed into the bathroom and saw the two junior agents chained to the sink. One of the men had regained consciousness and was trying to free himself. He looked up as Midget entered the room. "Help" he pleaded from behind the gag in his mouth.

Terrier's world was caving in around him like a house of cards. "Pigs!" He yelled in a blind rage and emptied the remaining bullets into the heads of the captive men. The midget found the pink misty cloud of blood and brain tissue oddly satisfying as the top of the unconscious man's head disappeared. He turned the gun to the conscious one, whose eyes went wide with fear as he pleaded for his life. "Coward!" He spat as he pulled the trigger and grinned as the man's face turned into to a mass of red pulpy flesh. Killing the two agents brought as sense of calmness and control to the midget.

With his rage spent he calmly waddled to the rear of the bowling alley where the alley exit was located. His acute sense of hearing detected the sound of footsteps in the alley. He quickly felt his pockets and noted that after reloading he would have two full clips remaining plus $2,500 in emergency cash, and whatever he had in his wallet. Patting his jacket he found that his three passports were still tucked into the lining. He had survived many things in his life, some far worse than his current situation and was confident that he would survive this too. He just had to elude the Americans whom he suspected were the source of the footsteps he heard. Midget surveyed the area to find a place where he could hide and wait them out, He moved quickly towards the narrow rectangular trashcan, which stood against the back wall,opened the bucket removal door and climbed in. As an added concealment he pulled the phony three-sided plastic bucket in front of himself and sat beneath the semi-filled liner and waited.

Steve and Ron flattened themselves against the wall next to the open side of the door.

Roger grabbed hold of the grimy handle and looked at his colleagues. "On three." he whispered.

Both men nodded.

"One."

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Two."

Nicholson closed his eyes andsaid a silent prayer.

"Three!"

Roger pulled the door open and Nicholson was the first to enter the building. He panned his pistol low as he surveyed the immediate area for the shooter. Steve was right behind him and aimed his weapon high over Ron's crouched frame and quickly eyed the room. Both men immediately moved to opposite side of the room. Hennessey followed closely and flattened himself against the wall between McGarrett and the trashcan. The bar was empty.

With his pistol at the ready Nicholson moved away from the wall and towards the seating area while McGarrett approached the bar.

Pausing for a moment Steve took a deep breath before he looked behind it. No one was there. The hair on the back of his neck was standing up on end, which meant that SOMEONE was around. He moved to where the office door was and kicked it open and carefully swept the small room with his pistol and keen eye before he stepped inside. In the ceiling there was a trap door that was slightly ajar. He was about to signal for backup when a closer look revealed that a spider web covered the opening. He silently reminded himself to breathe again.

Midget carefully lifted the flap of his hiding place and peered through the small opening. He saw two men who were standing close by with their backs to him. He felt for his Luger that was in his jacket pocket and wished that the distance between them was smaller. The thought that he could easily kill one of them right now brought a sarcastic smile to his face. But before he could the second man would react and, maybe kill him. Deciding that would not be a wise to draw such attention to his position he continued to observe through the hole. As he watched he realized there were three men that entered the bar. Where'd the third one go? He asked himself as he intensely looked for him with his limited line of sight. He shifted hiss eyes towards the right. The red haired target was moving towards the bathroom door. He sat back against the rear of the container and cursed silently in Russian. In a matter of moments that man would discover his 'handiwork' in the bathroom and summon the others. Once they saw the carnage the Americans would certainly tear the place apart looking for him. Terrier regretted his lack of impulse control. His explosive temper had gotten him into quite a few sticky situations.

Finding nothing in the office Steve came back into the bar. When he came around the bar itself he spotted an inert form on the floor and wondered to himself why he didn't see this person before. He kept his gun pointed at the man as he approached and gently kicked him in the ribs. The man moaned his displeasure. Bending down next to the body he cautiously rolled the man onto his back. A huge burp came out of the man who then broke out laughing. "Hey buddy!" He slurred when he opened his eyes and saw the man beside him. "How's about a rye for an old pal. Huh??"

The man's breath smelled of stale liquor and nearly toppled McGarrett. He relaxed his aim as he waved his hand through the air in front of him in order to disperse the smell. "You see anybody in here?" he asked.

"Bashful" The drunken man replied with a smirk.

Taken aback by the man's answer Steve shook him again, hoping that this time he would get a more coherent answer.

"Dopey?" The drunk answered again making a squeezing motion with his right index finger. "Sure wurnt no Doc". He laughed at what he thought had been an amazingly funny joke then went back to sleep.

McGarrett shook his head as he stood to leave the man in his stupor and walked to the center of the room. Nicholson waved to get his attention and gestured in the direction of the vacant bowling lanes.

They had no way of knowing that the pinboys had left with the crowd of rubber-neckers. The vast area at the far end of the lanes represented a potentially huge risk to their safety. Steve tightened his grip on his weapon and nodded his acknowledgement and headed for Lane one. Ron did likewise and ran down lane five. Both men carefully peered into the space beyond the polished maple planking. The chairs on which the pinsetters sat were overturned. The white painted wooden pins were strewn haphazardly across the floor. The area was deserted.

Steve felt the back of his neck tingle despite not finding the shooter or any evidence of one. Both men briskly walked back up the polished wood lanes to the grubby seating area. Out of he corner of his eye McGarrett noticed that the front door was open. Ron pointed out the overturned gumball machine near the entrance. The man who had tried to kill Bortzoff was long gone! Securing their weapons they returned to the rear of the building.

"Damn!" McGarrett swore as he pounded on the top of the trashcan. The sound echoed in the empty room. "We lost him!"

Ron agreed and vented his frustration in one well-placed kick to the can's side.

Hennessey rushed from the bathroom where he had gone to search for the shooter and his face was pale. "Guys, you better look in here." He stated matter of factly even though his stomach was on the verge of emptying its contents.

The stench of body waste from inside the men's room permeated the air. The smell of blood greeted them before they even entered the room. Nicholson halted abruptly as well as his colleagues. Steve pushed the door open and the trio stared at the gruesome site before them.

As the wailing police siren was getting louder Roger pointed out the ejected shell casings scattered on the floor.

While the Americans were gathered in the bathroom Midget saw his chance to escape. He shook off the fear he felt when his hiding place was pounded on and kicked earlier and quietly climbed out of the trashcan. He slipped out of the backdoor and into the alley. He took several deeps breaths as he took stock of his situation. Escape he decided was his only option. He tore open the hem of his jacket lining and removed a brown leather pouch. The pouch contained three passports with the credentials necessary to back up those identities along with a fair amount of national currency. The British Royal Crest gleamed in bright gold against the dark blue background as he stared at the palm sized identity booklets. Continuing with his American identity would be risky. Presenting himself as the Soviet Citizen that he was would draw unwanted attention. His other identity was that of a French jockey and at the moment he just didn't feel very "French".

"British it is then" He said to himself and tore open the small envelope which contained his new persona. He exchanged the items with their counterparts in his wallet and tucked the American documents into the brown pouch which he placed in his jacket pocket. Since the women, who were the only ones that knew where he lived had also been arrested he could not risk going back to his apartment to retrieve his clothes. That meant he would be forced to do something he despised greatly which was to shop in a boy's clothing store. The first thing on his escape agenda was to secure passage on the first available ship heading anywhere. He walked out of the alley with resolve, crossed the street and headed for the docks at Aloha Tower. "Nobody ever suspects a midget." He laughed to himself and felt again for the Luger in his pocket.

The sirens were louder as the squad cars turned onto Hotel Street just as the midget walked out of the alley.

"Now what?" Ron asked as the sirens approached. He turned away from the gore and headed out of the room. 

Roger quickly followed. Steve stepped forward to get a closer look at one of the bodies. When he heard the siren he looked up and saw that his friends had left the room. He took one last look then quickly joined them by the now empty trashcan.

Roger opened his right hand and showed them one of the casings. "By the back door." He stated "We got the slug in Bortzoff."

The sirens were deafening as the cars drew closer when Ron added. "No ID on them when we put them in there."

Steve grunted his acknowledgement. He couldn't shake the feeling that the murderer was very close by.

The screeching of numerous tires on the street outside the bowling alley announced the arrival of the police. "Local cops are such showoffs." Steve chuckled.

"No ID on any of us are either." Hennessey reminded.

McGarrett wanted to examine the scene further and maybe even question the old drunk again. But that was not to be.. "Exit stage left." He sighed in resolution. The three men filed out the back door just as the first policeman entered through the front door.

One of the squad cars had parked across the entrance of the alley effectively blocking it. Seeing this Hennessey gestured for them to head towards the other end. None of the officers wanted to explain to the locals their reason for being at the scene of a double homicide. Knowing they had no other option the men ran full speed towards the far end of the alley.

Ron was the first to see 'daylight at the end of the tunnel' followed closely by Hennessey. They looked back to see Steve lagging behind by a few paces. He leaned against the wall holding his chest while trying to suck in a huge amount of oxygen.

"Where are we?" Nicholson asked as he surveyed the street and the dilapidated storefronts.

Roger looked at Ron with a somewhat confused look on his face, and replied with a sarcastic tone. "Hawaii." And broke out in a big grin.

Ron gave Roger an evil look. "Thanks a lot. A little closer would help." He looked expectantly towards McGarrett who he knew could give him a more direct answer.

McGarrett felt like his chest was on fire. "Kekaulike" He whispered between gasps for air. "Street"

"For the love of God Nicholson," Roger replied in exasperation, "You spent two months here, don't you remember your way around?"

"At Pearl." Nicholson corrected. "Only time I was out was with you guys on the boat." He looked hopefully to McGarrett. You know I don't like the outdoors. Steve, how far back to Pearl?"

Steve pushed himself away from the wall. His ribs still throbbed but his breathing was coming easier. "Fourteen miles, that way." He said as he pointed towards the West.

"Fourteen!" Hennessey exclaimed in shock. "You gotta be kidding."

"Wish I was." Steve sighed.

Ron and Roger looked at each other and then back down at Steve. "OK, then we go to the locals."

"Right" Nicholson snapped and gestured widely with his arms. "We waltz in and announce we're lost intelligence officers who just happen to be in the vicinity of a double homicide."

"Then we come up with something else." Hennessey retorted. "Steve, I know you have to have a girlfriend around here someplace. Where does she live?"

"Aina Haina." McGarrett stated.

"Anaheim? Good lord!" Ron fumed. "That's in California."

Steve had to chuckle at the look of horror on Ron's face. He had a plan in mind for their rescue but wanted to have some fun with his agoraphobic friend. "It's just over that way a little bit." He replied as he gestured toward Diamond Head.

"Well allrighty then!" Hennessey smiled, rubbed his hands together and turned to the East.

"You see Diamond Head over there." Steve put on the best tourguide act he could muster.

"Yeah sure. So what." Hennessey retorted." its just another mountain. Saw enough of those in Korea to last me."

"Aina Haina is on the other side. Twelve miles." McGarrett laughed even though his ribs were throbbing. 

Ron felt his stomach lurch at the prospect of spending the night outdoors. "You had to let the van go." He snapped.

"What was I supposed to do?" Steve snapped back. "Let us all get caught. You want to explain to the locals why we grabbed off five supposedly innocent citizens. And one of them just happens to have a bullet in him that we can't explain. The mission comes first! Remember that."

Hennessey grabbed Steve's arm and clapped Ron on the back in his way of stopping the growing disagreement. "This isn't getting us back to the base any sooner."

Steve half-grinned at Ron who reluctantly smiled back. "Twelve is less than fourteen." He chided. "Goodthing you didn't break that leg Steve. 

"Or." Steve grinned. "We could go to her office. Six blocks in that direction." He added pointing to downtown.

Roger laughed out loud at the humor of the situatiuon and nudged McGarrett forwards. Nicholson brought up the rear of their little parade.

The midget was walking down the North side of King Street and keeping a wary eye on his surroundings when he spotted the three men from the bowling alley approaching from behind him. For all intents and purposes he was now Ian Barber a British journalist. He debated on whether to ignore or challenge them. With the Lugar still securely tucked away in his jacket pocket he felt he could defend himself if need be, but if these guys were looking for him it was best to know now rather than later. So he slowed his pace enough to let them catch up to him in a well-lit intersection.

"Good evening Gents" Ian smiled and tilted his head.

Ron felt his neck prickle.

Hennessey looked down at the midget. "Can we help you?" He asked.

"Might I trouble you for the time?" He asked making a show of banging his wristwatch." My watch seems to have gone queer on me."

"Twen......" Steve caught himself about to answer in military time. "Nine forty-two." He smiled down at the small man.

"Thank you ever so much" Ian replied as he adjusted his watch, "Lovely night isn't it." Roger inhaled the plumeria scented air and agreed.

"Tally Ho then." The Terrier said as walked past the group and continued on down the street with a genuine spring of confidence in his waddle.

Roger watched the little man walk away and commented. "Polite little fellow."

"Yeah he was." Steve agreed and playfully punched Ron in the shoulder. "Bout your size too."

"Very funny." Nicholson huffed. "How much further?" As the two men enjoyed a good laugh at Ron's expense.

"Turn right at the next corner. Steve directed."And a block down from there. You guys hang back so I can convince the night watchman that I was supposed to meet Kathy tonight. It will sound familiar because we've done that often enough. He'll let me phone her to confirm and I'll call the office and have us picked up by the coronation stand."

Doc Saprestien saw the squad cars converge on the bowling alley as he sat in Doris's car trying unsuccessfully to find a roadmap. He immediately pulled away from the curb before he was approached by one of the officers and began driving west.He didn't remember crossing the stream but decided to just keep going in that direction in hope that he would see a road sign. Then came the detour for road construction. He only had intended to drive a mere block out of his way and double back and the next thing he knew Diamond Head loomed in his headlights. He turned at the next corner only to discover it to be a one-way street and ended up almost in the mountains. Frustrated that he managed to get himself lost, he turned around and once again headed west looking for a sign that said Pearl Harbor.In his headlights he saw Steve McGarrett walking towards him and assumed that he was heading home which would mean that Saprestien was still travelling in the wrong direction. He knew he was hopelessly lost but not about to admit it to his troublesome patient. At the next side street he turned his car around and drove directly at the three men.

Steve nearly had a heart attack when the maroon 1946 Mercury Sportsman crossed his path and stopped.

"Good evening. Doc said nonchalantly, Might I offer you guys a ride?"

Nicholson had made a quick grab for his weapon but breathed a sigh of relief when he saw who it was in the car and holstered his pistol.

"Where on Earth did you come from!" Steve exclaimed and stared at the car."And in that!"

"It's Nurse Parker's." Doc grinned. "I had the key with me."

Ron quickly seated himself in the car. Roger decided that he had walked enough for one night and joined Nicholson in the rear seat. McGarrett would have preferred to continue with his rescue plan but reluctantly walked around the car and sat in the passenger seat.

Saprestien once again steered across traffic leaving a trail of rubber on the pavement behind him planning to merge the car just ahead of a semi trailer. A long blast from the truck's air horn pierced the air as its driver applied his brakes. . The men in the back held on tightly to the seat in front of them. McGarrett braced himself with his left hand on the dashboard and prepared for impact. Saprestien floored the accelerator and pulled in front of the speeding vehicle with barely a second to spare.

Hennessey was first to recover his wits and commented that the physician must have driven moonshine in a previous life.

"Reminds me of a tank commander I once knew." Ron commented.

McGarrett couldn't help but laugh at the perturbed look on Doc's face.

"You gentlemen ever hear of a place called Indy." Saprestien retorted.

"There's no number on the side of this car." Steve chuckled. And having said that he slouched down in the seat and stretched his legs as much as he could in the confined space.

Doc, having slowed down to the legal limit, continued driving towards 'home'. Traffic moved briskly as they headed eastward. Now that he was no longer hopelessly lost he allowed his mind to mull over the possibilities of where to take Nurse Parker on their first real date. If she would even go out with you. He reminded himself. He would make inquiries of the other nurses as to what she liked. McGarrett certainly would know the proper places to take a woman.

The breeze blew softly off the ocean and gently rustled the palm trees as they headed towards the undeveloped part of the coast. The air was fragarent with plumeria and salt.

"What is that Steve?" Nicholson inquired as he surveyed the passing scenery.

Steve turned his head and glanced behind Saprestien. " Coronation Stand, that's the palace behind it."

"Palace?"

"Yeah." Steve informed as he slipped into his tourguide persona. "The Iolani Palace built in 1882 by King Kalakaua. The only royal palace on American soil."

"Unless you count Hyannisport." Roger added sarcastically.

"The government took it over in 1893. You'd probably like it Ron, the architecture is impressive although it could use a bit of sprucing up. Rumor has it that after statehood they are going to build a new capitol building behind it."

"You think that's really happening?" Doc inquired. "Alaska maybe. At least it's on the same continent. But we're in the middle of nowhere out here."

"Just a matter of time." Steve stated. "What about Bortzoff?"

The physician was lost thinking about Doris Parker again until an accidental kick to the back of the seat jarred him back to reality. "Huh?" He questioned.

Steve again inquired about the Soviet's condition. Saprestien prefaced his answer with a reminder that he had only been able to do a brief examination.

The men in the back seat leaned forwards in expectation of an answer as Saprestien informed them that what he had seen indicated a wound high in the shoulder and unless the bullet had taken a strange trajectory Bortzoff would most likely survive.

McGarrett breathed a sigh of relief at the same moment Saprestien guided the car past Kapiolani Boulevard junction.

"Uh, say Doc" Steve realized that the bells he heard a few minutes before were coming from Kawaiahao Church and decided that the nocturnal tour had gone on long enough and he had better get them headed in the right direction. "How full is the tank?"

Ron suddenly became uncomfortable again.

"Should be full." He replied," we had to stop on the way. Why?"

"Well……" McGarrett laughed. "There aren't too many stations once we get out of the city. "

Out of the city! Doc wondered to himself then the revelation hit-he was still lost. "We're not heading to Pearl are we?" He asked sheepishly.

"Steve!" there was tenseness in Nicholson's voice. "Please tell me we will get home."

"Relax. We'll get there. But if we continue in this direction it will be sixty miles around the island."

Saprestien checked that there was no one immediately behind them and made an abrupt U-turn.

"Jesus!" Hennessey exclaimed as he fell against the car door.

Ron gestured at a one-way street sign.

"What are you doing!" McGarrett exclaimed and gestured towards his right. " The police station is right over there! Of all the places to go up a one way street."

Through a series of turns McGarrett got them on the correct route and once the car was headed in a westerly direction he slid down in the seat.

Saprestien glanced out of the corner of his eye and noted that although he was very relaxed McGarrett was not asleep. "Tomorrow I want you to clear all of that junk out of my hospital."

. "My pleasure!" Steve smiled broadly. "I could move it tonight."

"Tomorrow afternoon will be soon enough." The man stated firmly. "Late afternoon."

Steve wanted desperately to go home that night. "Not like I wouldn't be there any how." He stated.

"Steve?" Ron was the first to question the odd statement.

"Somebody has to question Bortzoff"

Hennessey sat upright in the seat. "He's got immunity. We can't touch him."

"Does he now?" Steve replied with a conspiratorial grin. "Do we know this for certain?"

"You heard him." Ron stated.

"And I could tell you I'm Santa Claus too."

Hennessey laughed out loud when he caught on to McGarrett's train of thought.

It took Nicholson a few seconds longer to comprehend. "There weren't any papers on him when we searched him." He offered.

"Steve?" Saprestien ventured apprehensively. "You're not planning on questioning this one too? You said he was a diplomat."

"How much Pentathol you have laying around?" McGarrett teased in order to try lower the man's anxiety level.

Saprestien shot an evil glare at McGarrett and nearly drove off the side of the road.

"He's not off limits unless he has documentation or is conscious enough to phone his embassy. That gives us one crack at him tonight while he's still sedated."

Saprestien found himself staring at the white reflectors on the side of the road as they passed by. "It never ends does it." He replied at length.

Steve stretched his limbs then slumped down in the seat. "No." He sighed. "Unfortunately it doesn't."

Does Steve ever meet up with the Midget again?

Will he and Kathy tie the knot?

PAU

For now


End file.
